Any Minute Now
by nubianamy
Summary: Donutverse #14: As Finn, Kurt, Puck and Blaine continue their relationship into junior year, two major complications drive them apart. Polyamory, Dom/sub, discipline, with Kurt/Puck/Finn/Blaine, Will/OMCs, Kurt/Puck/Adam Lambert and other relationships.
1. Birth 1993

_(Author's note: This story follows directly after the last chapter of Dying in America, at the beginning of season 2, their junior year, September 2010. It is a work in progress, but it's entirely plotted and I'm about a third done with it. I will post once a week until it's complete._

 _If you're brand-new to the Donutverse, here's the ridiculous summary of the last million and a half words: Kurt, Puck, Finn and Blaine are in a committed BDSM relationship. Puck and Kurt are also in a relationship with Adam Lambert, who's currently on tour. Puck's daughter Beth is living with them at the Hudson-Hummel house part time and with Shelby Corcoran part time. The boys are good friends with Will Schuester's fiancé Toby, who is the choreographer for Vocal Adrenaline. Blaine and Dave were childhood friends; Dave's closeted and in love with Blaine, and they're just starting to put together their friendship again. Blaine and Santana were also childhood friends._

 _If Dying in America was the sweet, light chapter of the Donutverse, this is the dark, miserable one. This is not to say there won't be some fun parts, and plenty of sex, but I should warn you that very many not-nice things happen in the course of this story. Trigger warnings include internalized homophobia, mental illness and abusive parents._

 _One of the main threads in this story is Puck's crisis of faith. There are some portrayals of a fictional evangelical group that are less than kind. Please do not interpret this as a condemnation of any particular religion. Extra hugs for readers who have experienced this kind of manipulation at the hands of religious leaders. I myself have not, and I'm writing it fictionally. I hope you'll be kind to yourself as you read, and take care of yourself as needed._

 _The title is from the Colin Hay song "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin," which inspired this story and made me keep writing the Donutverse after several challenging events in my life caused me to stop for a while. It's been almost six years since I wrote Knockdown, and somehow, I've continued this far. There's so much more story to tell. I'm thrilled to have you here._

 _I love, love, love to talk about the Donutverse. Come find me on tumblr or email me at nubianamy at gmail dot com, or comment on a chapter or two._ _-amy)_

* * *

Birth 1993

They fit together as perfectly as they had for the past thirty-seven weeks. She didn't remember ever being so content, not with Timothy, who'd been colicky from day one, and certainly not with Aaron, who hadn't even bothered to show up for the birth of his second son. She knew where he'd be when she got home in two days: stretched out on the couch, a bottle in one hand and the remote in the other, nearly a permanent fixture when he wasn't working. She was lucky her mother had offered to take Timothy when she'd gone into labor early. At least she didn't have to worry about him.

She did worry about Aaron, but it had been so long since he'd really been around, she could almost write him off entirely. Almost.

And then, suddenly, there he was in the doorway, staring at her with a bewildered, hesitant light in his eyes.

"Ruth?"

He had a bouquet of balloons — they wouldn't allow flowers on this floor — clutched in his big left hand. His right clutched the door frame.

Her first instinct was to hold her newborn son close, to shield him from the touch of this man, whose hands had caused her more pain than pleasure. But then, what right did she have to keep a man from his own child?

 **Boys need their father,** she thought. **Even if they are alcoholic sons-of-bitches.** She turned the baby's sleeping face out for Aaron to see.

He moved into the room and crouched down by the side of the bed, smiling. It was an honest, sober smile, one she hadn't seen on his face for months. "Can I hold him?"

"Wash your hands," she murmured.

He moved quickly into the bathroom to comply, letting the balloons skitter across the side table to rest in the corner. With damp hands, he took the wrapped bundle from her and nestled it into his arms, crooning wordlessly at him.

"How about Samuel, for your brother," he said. "He looks like a Samuel."

She couldn't help but smile. "I was thinking Noah, for yours."

"Noah." He glanced up at her, surprised. "I didn't even know you knew about him. My Ma never talks about him."

"Well, women like to share." She watched him stroke the baby's dark curls, his tiny feet, his butter-soft cheek. "She didn't want there to be secrets between us. And it's been over thirty years since she was pregnant with him, after all."

"Huh. Just when I thought I knew my old lady, she goes and surprises me." Aaron shook his head. "Yeah. I like Noah. And Samuel. Maybe one as his middle name."

"They're going to come in here in a few minutes to put him under the bilirubin lights," she said. She could already feel the lack of him against her skin. "Can I have him back?"

"What are the lights for?" He passed the bundle back gently, remembering to support his head without being asked. Sometimes he almost seemed like a real husband, a real father, when the bourbon didn't have a hold of him.

"They keep their skin from turning yellow. High levels of bilirubin can cause brain damage in infants. Too much of something can be as bad as not enough."

That was how it was with Aaron, she thought, watching him tie the balloons to a chair and try to sneak a cigarette. It was always too much or not enough of everything with him. If only she could figure out which one it was, maybe they could be okay again.

When it actually came time to fill in the birth certificate later that morning, she told herself it was because it just sounded better.

FULL NAME: Noah Aaron Puckerman  
DATE OF BIRTH: July 12, 1993


	2. Prologue

_(Author's note: I said to myself, while writing Dying In America, "Wouldn't it be cool if Shannon Beiste and Holly Holliday were roommates? I'd totally watch that situation comedy." -amy)_

* * *

Prologue: August 2010

Holly was in the process of shifting a large pile of papers off the coffee table and onto the floor just as a loud knock sounded. Startled, she spilled the papers across the carpet.

"Shit, shit, shit," she sang, unperturbed, and clambered over the papers to get to the door. "On my way!" She stubbed her toe on the edge of the table and swore again. By the time she pushed the door open, she was stumbling and breathing hard. "Hi?"

The figure on the other side of the door peered at her dubiously. "You Holly? Am I in the right place?"

"Depends on what you're looking for, but yes, I'm Holly." Her face brightened. "Are you Shannon?"

"That's me," she said.

"Great! I'm also waiting for somebody named Brock to look at the stair stepper I listed on Craigslist, so I wanted to be sure."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like a _Brock?"_

"I've given up making assumptions about names." She beckoned, smiling. "Come in, come in. Figgins said you were coming."

Holly led the formidable woman through the door. Her eyes took in the room, sliding over the papers and dishes piled on the coffee table.

"I didn't clean up," Holly explained. "I figured anybody who wanted a neat apartment wouldn't want to live with me. Best to be honest up front."

"I'm not lookin' for much. Just a place to sleep when I ain't teaching. I'm thinkin' I'll be at school most evenings." Shannon carefully placed her feet between the sea of wayward papers, moving through them until she stood before the kitchen sink.

"Seems like all teachers work late." Holly slipped on her EDC 303 notes and almost toppled into the kitchen table, but recovered in time. "That's what I'm studying to become. Hence the paperwork. I've been teaching Spanish at the high school all summer. It was a ball, I'll tell you. Any tips for a newcomer?"

Shannon's mouth twitched. "Start firm with your kids. You can always back off later when they know and trust you, but they have to start the year believing you mean it when you say something. If they can't trust your word, your teachin' ain't worth crap."

Holly inclined her chin. "Mmmm. I tend to focus more on relationships than rules. Although I have a couple I always start with. There they are, on the wall."

Shannon reached out and touched the framed words over the sink. "Number one," she read. "I'm not here to fix myself or anyone else. Number two, I'll strive to balance positive with honest. Number three, I've got a voice and I'll use it." She grinned appreciatively. "Those are some good guidelines to live by."

"They're for my clients - I'm a therapist, mostly working with teenagers - and I wouldn't ask them to do anything I didn't believe in myself. I try to give them a framework for a life they can believe in, too."

"Kids need some clear boundaries," Shannon said, nodding. "Can I see the bedroom?"

Holly's chattering didn't seem to put Shannon off any more than the dirty dishes had. She responded to her small talk with ease. By the time they returned from their tour of the bathroom and bedrooms, Holly had learned that Shannon taught PE and coached football.

"I'm thinking you won't mind me adding a little to the mess," Shannon said, indicating the living room floor. "I do some crafting myself."

"Knitting?" Holly guessed.

"Leatherwork." She held out her arm and showed Holly the cuff snapped around her wrist, finely tooled and dyed in Celtic knots. Holly touched the cuff and offered some noises of approval.

"Totally not a problem. So…" She made an encompassing gesture. "What do you say? Roomie?"

Shannon laughed, shifting her hand to offer it to shake. Holly did so, beaming. Then she rummaged in a stack of folders on the counter until she came up with a not-too wrinkled copy of the sublease contract.

"Where are you teaching? Not here in Lima?"

"Yep," said Shannon. "McKinley High. The football coach had to leave suddenly, but his record with the kids wasn't that impressive to begin with. I'll whip 'em into shape."

Holly gave a little clap. "Oh, McKinley! That's where I was this summer! Will Schuester, the Spanish teacher, he's a really nice guy. And Sue Sylvester, the other P.E teacher, she's awful."

"Is that right." Shannon didn't sound too perturbed. She waited while Holly cleared off a chair at the table and sat, digging a pen out from underneath a balled-up fast food wrapper. Her printing was clear and bold across the top of the contract: BEISTE, SHANNON. "I'm pretty good at holding my own against adversity."

"That's an excellent skill to have." Holly crossed her arms thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have to ask this, but I might as well be clear before you sign on the dotted line that this is a LBGT-friendly apartment."

Shannon paused, eyeing Holly.

"I ain't gay," she said firmly. "People think because I'm strong enough to lift a trailer that I'm automatically gay. But I'm not. I love men."

"No problem," Holly said. "So do I."

"I mean, sometimes they're a pain in the tuchus," Shannon went on. "I ain't sayin' it wouldn't be convenient sometimes not to care about them."

"Yeah, but we do." Holly smiled and touched Shannon's thick arm above the leather cuff. "I always have, even when everybody else thought I was a gay man."

Shannon's eyebrows went up to the top of her forehead and remained there. "A… gay man?"

"Remember what I said about honesty up front? That's what I'm offering." She held out her hand again, and after a moment, Shannon shook it. Holly felt herself relax under the grip of her hand. "If you're OK with me the way I am, I think we're going to be fine."

* * *

Shelby was waiting on the porch of her new rental house as Puck crunched up the driveway in the Impala. He watched her smile widen as Puck lifted Beth's carrier out of the back seat. He set her down just long enough to give Shelby a hug.

"Been a while, Noah," she said, but her eyes were on Beth as Puck unbuckled her from the car seat. "Hey, peanut, look at you! You're so much bigger than you were last week."

"She's wet," he warned. "And there's a tooth coming in, right up front. She's biting on everything in her path." He showed Shelby the little nub. "Watch your arm. She took a chunk out of Burt's shoulder."

He hovered for another moment before Shelby gestured toward the door. "Come in for a bit before you head back to Lima. Or are you going on to Westerville?"

"Yeah, I thought I would stop there on my way home." Puck kept his voice casual, but Shelby obviously wasn't fooled. Her smile over her shoulder as she held Beth was knowing.

"I have the feeling you'll be doing that route a lot this year."

"It's only an extra hour. And Blaine —" He shrugged, scratching his neck as he felt his face get warm. "Yeah, okay. Pretty much every weekend."

"Trust me, I saw how the two of you were this summer." Shelby ducked Beth's grasping hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. "You're still glowing. You miss him?"

"Not as much as I'm gonna miss this monkey." He moved in close behind then and nuzzled Beth's cheek, provoking laughs and babbles. "You sure you're OK quitting your job?"

"I am so sure," Shelby promised. "It's done, they've hired my replacement. Dustin Goolsby's not a particularly nice man, but he's a very good director, and if he and Toby can keep from killing one another, they'll produce an unstoppable choir by the time sectionals rolls around. So I'm the weekday parent; you're the weekend parent. And you're _going_ to keep up your grades."

He wasn't fooled by her severe look. "Trust me, I got Kurt and Finn on my ass about that."

"I don't want to hear details," she reminded him, but she was grinning.

The car was a lot quieter on the way out of Akron than it had been on the way in. Puck put on the brand-new Katy Perry album and hummed along to _Teenage Dream._ It was pretty cool to hear a song on a CD that had been written using words he'd offered to the songwriter about his own boyfriend.

 _Someday,_ he thought, _I'll hear Adam's recording of the song Finn had him write about me._

He paused at the gas station to fill up his tank, and sent Adam a text of a picture of Shelby holding Beth. _For Daddum,_ he typed slowly. He knew Adam wouldn't receive it until he was done with his visit to Boston Children's Hospital, but that was okay. Kurt told him the word for their relationship was _asynchronous,_ and Puck was mostly used to it by now. It was Adam who suffered most. At least he had Angela to take care of him. Not that she was providing the kind of service that Puck would have given Adam, had he been with him on tour. Puck would have offered regular blowjobs, for one thing.

Blaine wasn't waiting on the porch of his dorm or anything, but Puck called him when he arrived and Blaine came down to meet him at the benches west of the courtyard. They were under the shade of some mature trees, out of the way of prying eyes. Not that Puck really cared who saw him with Blaine, especially not in Westerville, but he knew Blaine didn't want to risk any gossip getting back to his father.

He opened his arms as Blaine approached, and Blaine put a little speed into his step to arrive that much sooner. As soon as Puck was holding Blaine, he let out a relieved sigh, which was mirrored by Blaine's.

"Better," Puck said, his voice husky. Blaine just nodded, quivering a little as he settled into Puck's embrace.

"Everything okay with Shelby?" he asked, his words muffled against Puck's shirt.

"It's gonna be fine. She's with her mom. That's almost as good as being with her Papa, or you." Puck kissed Blaine's head. "And I'm here, with you. I dreamed about you last night."

"I dreamed about you, too." It was a joke, because most nights for the past year, they'd dreamed about one another. Ever since he and Blaine had met at the dance club last year, somehow they'd remained in each others' memories. Puck brushed Blaine's cheek with the back of his hand, and Blaine leaned into the touch with clear appreciation. "I miss you all so much."

"We miss you, babe. Kurt said to give you a kiss." He did that, making it long and gentle. Blaine sighed into it, letting his body relax into Puck's.

"That's so nice."

"Yeah. And here's one from me."

This time Blaine surfaced from the kiss gasping, nudging his pelvis against Puck's jeans-clad hip. His eyes were glassy. "Yeah, that… that felt like it was from you."

Puck placed his lips against Blaine's ear. "I can't give you what Finn has for you out here," he whispered. "Not until we're in your room."

Blaine moaned, chuckling a little. "I can only guess what that might be."

Blaine was calm today. There were things Puck could do for Blaine that would help maintain that calm — things he knew Blaine also got from Finn on their Wednesdays together — but it didn't seem that Blaine needed them at the moment.

It wasn't exactly true anymore to say that Kurt and Blaine had the romantic role in their foursome, or that Puck and Blaine were the sexy ones, or that Finn was in charge. They all shared all those roles now. This didn't seem to bother Blaine in the least; on the contrary, he seemed nothing but delighted by the whole situation, if a little overwhelmed. Puck could relate: he knew exactly how incredibly humbling and totally terrifying it was to have so many people taking care of you.

Puck took Blaine's hand and led him back to the rear exit door of the dorm. He squeezed Blaine's hand once before letting him head back around to the front. It wasn't more than another minute before Blaine was there opening the door from the inside, and two more minutes before they'd made their way up the rear stairs to Blaine's dorm room.

"We have forty-five minutes before Trey gets back from the grocery store," Blaine said, pulling the door shut and locking it with a firm click. He met Puck in the middle of the floor, his hands already tugging off pieces of his clothing. Their lips joined hungrily.

"I'm not wasting any of it," Puck promised between kisses.

He didn't mention Blaine's collar. Puck knew without a doubt that was one of those things Finn would provide for him later that weekend. There was a limit to how far down Blaine would be able to go into subspace in forty-five minutes, anyway. Puck used his hands instead, holding firm to Blaine's wrists as he placed him on his back on the bed and had his way with him. Blaine just watched him through it all, the love and amazement showing plainly on his face: _I get this?_ And Puck did his best to show him that yeah, _fuck,_ yeah, he did.

When Blaine got loud at the end, the way he usually did, Puck gathered him up with one strong hand and covered his mouth with the other, slowing down and drawing it out. By now he knew how to pace it just the way Blaine liked it, to keep him at that point just before coming for a good long time. Blaine's frantic breaths, the way he was writhing and struggling in Puck's arms, just served to inspire him to draw it out further, but eventually he couldn't hold out any longer, and they collapsed together on the bed.

"Oh god," Blaine panted, rolling over onto his back, "oh, god. You are the best… the most…" He shook his head and laughed helplessly. "I can't add enough superlatives to that sentence."

"Yeah, I know." Puck curled up close beside him, grinning. He used the edge of Blaine's sheet to pad the moisture off Blaine's forehead. "You aren't the only one feeling that way."

"But I'm not _doing_ anything," Blaine said. Puck had to laugh.

"You're here, you're real, and you react like that. That's all I'm asking for." He leaned in and kissed him on his temple, the way Finn would have done, and basked in the worshipful look on Blaine's face. "I don't want you to _do_ anything."

"Just lie back and take it?" Blaine asked. His tone was joking, but his expression was so hopeful that Puck had to kiss him again.

"That's right, babe. You're gonna let me love you like that, I'm gonna do it, as long as you want it."

"Wow." Blaine's smile broadened until it took up his entire face, his eyes shining. "That sounds like… quite a promise."

Puck didn't answer. He wasn't the promise-making type, and there was no sense in pretending he was. He knew Finn was willing to make all the promises for the lot of them. Puck would be right behind every one of them.

They showered and got dressed quickly, just in case Trey came back early. He wished Blaine had gotten Jeff for a roommate this year. Jeff knew all about Finn's disciplinary relationship with Blaine, and had even filled in for him on occasion when Blaine was falling apart and needed relief. The few times Puck had run into Jeff, he didn't seem to object to Blaine's suddenly acquiring two more lovers, so that made him okay in Puck's book.

"How's school going so far?" Puck asked. His own school hadn't begun yet, but Dalton had started two weeks ago. Blaine shrugged.

"Things are fine here. At home, not so much. My dad and his partner Thomas, I think they're breaking up. No surprise, considering my dad's just as controlling with him as he is with… everything else in his life."

Puck knew he meant _with me,_ but he didn't push him. He'd leave that to Finn, and the paddle Blaine kept under his pillow. "That sucks. You like Thomas."

"I do," Blaine said. He directed his gaze out the window and smiled wistfully. "It's hard getting attached to people. Seems like I end up missing everyone more all the time. You, and Kurt and Finn, your sister… and especially Bethie."

"I'll bring her soon," Puck told him as he rose to his feet. "I'll come by Friday night on my way home with her, if you want."

"Yeah?" Blaine looked hopeful again. "I know that would mean we couldn't… that we wouldn't be able to do other things, but… I'd like that."

Knowing that Blaine liked seeing Beth as much as he liked the awesome sex they'd just had made him feel inexplicably smug. _Check it out. My boyfriend digs my kid._

The ride home went by in a happy haze of singing along to Adam's album and thoughts of their summer with Blaine. It seemed like a lot less than an hour and a half had gone by when he pulled into the freshly-paved driveway.

He carefully drove around to the side and eased his Impala into the rear garage. His car was the only one there. Carole's station wagon was with her at work. Kurt's Navigator and Finn's Focus would have been parked in the other garage, the one around the front, but the Focus was at the shop for a brake repair, and Kurt had taken Sarah and Frances clothes shopping in preparation of the first day of school.

It wasn't weird to be alone in the house of Sarah's design, no matter how big it was. It honestly felt more like _his_ house than any other place he'd ever lived. The kitchen was entirely his domain, nobody had argued about that, and Sarah had let him outfit it from top to bottom. The back two upstairs bedrooms, for him and Beth, had their own staircase and their own bath. And then there was the basement.

Instead of heading up the stairs to his rooms, he went down to inspect the bare drywall and cement floor of the basement rooms. They were still unfinished, but looking around, he had some ideas about how they would come together. A music practice room, for one, big enough to house Finn's drums (they were currently upstairs in Finn's bedroom, but Puck knew he wasn't complaining). Storage for Carole's craft supplies, and whatever materials Kurt had set aside for future sewing projects.

Puck paused in the doorway to the room behind the laundry. There was space for a bath with a stall shower, but on the floor plans, the large space beyond was marked "Storage." Finn had already started installing the double layer of insulation in the walls and ceiling. Reaching up with one hand, Puck ran his fingers along the reinforced joists, ready for hooks and other secure attachments, and felt a shiver. He was pretty sure there was no official designation on architect blueprints for "Playroom" or "Dungeon," but it didn't matter, because he knew how it was going to end up. This would be their own personal version of Carl's studio - private, lockable and more secure than any space outside of Tessera.

He'd been uncertain about it the first time Kurt had brought it up. _Does that mean you won't be able to cuff me to my bed anymore,_ he'd asked. Kurt had hugged him tightly and reassured him, _Not at all, sweetheart. It just means whenever you want to be really loud, you'll have a place to do that without worrying about who can hear._

He knew what that meant. Puck was seldom loud, but _Blaine_ was, almost always. Kurt was as invested in Blaine's comfort as he was in his own. This home would serve them in all possible ways.

He went back up to the first floor, then lugged his own weekend clothes and Beth's diaper bag upstairs to do a load of laundry. His own room was still mostly bare. Nobody had pushed him to decorate, and he appreciated that. The bookshelf held his copy of The Missing Piece, along with the two trilogies of Griffin & Sabine stories. They hadn't yet read the third book, or the second trilogy, but he was sure it would happen in time. His dog-eared copy of All the King's Men lay beside his assortment of sheet music, and his guitar and the cardboard box containing his father's collection of Neil Diamond records were at the foot of his bed. An Adam Lambert fan club calendar was tacked to the wall — it made him grin every time he saw it — beside the much-folded list of things he'd long ago written of things he wanted in a girlfriend, beginning with "hot" and ending with "forgives me." In the corner was a desk from the Salvation Army; it held Finn's old computer with the keyboard missing the J, since Finn's room was already full of drums.

Puck didn't boot up the computer. Instead, he opened his notebook and flipped past his scrawled menus for upcoming meals, to the pages in the middle that held his notes for songs. The original ideas for his song about Kurt and Finn were there, and the song he'd written with Sarah at Tessera last year. Most of what he'd been creating recently were tunes, but every now and then, he felt inspired to write lyrics. Finn and Kurt knew better than to ask him about them. If Puck had anything that was private in his life, it was that notebook.

He hadn't written more than a few lines before his phone buzzed with a text. Puck wasn't crazy about reading texts, but Blaine had a habit of sending him voice texts, and they felt like nothing less than little gifts in the middle of his day. He had to roll his eyes at his own sappiness, but he pressed Play and listened.

There was a lot of ambient noise of people talking in the background, but he could hear Blaine's voice, too, sounding very much in control and in charge. _"All right, guys,"_ he said, _"just like we practiced. Ready? I'm recording. Hit the twos and fours hard, Trey."_

Puck almost laughed, but once Blaine started singing, he just sat there with his phone in his hand and breathed. There were no instruments, just a whole bunch of boys singing all the parts.

 _You think I'm pretty without any makeup on_  
 _You think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong  
_ _I know you get me, so I let my walls come down_

Puck let his lips move along with the words, but he didn't make a sound. The Warblers, singing perfect harmony in backup to _his_ boy, in particular _this_ song, inspired by his own description of himself and Finn, written by Finn's cousin Katy, all tied together by Blaine's incredible voice… it was hard to say if he'd ever felt more in love with Blaine than he did at that moment.

He was sitting so still and so focused that he didn't hear the garage door close, or the shoes on the stairs. The knock on his doorframe made him jump. Finn stood in the hallway, his head cocked.

"Hey, I didn't know you were going to be home this early. Could you take me over to the garage to pick up my —" Finn's voice drifted off as he caught Blaine's voice, and he stood there, staring at the phone. "Is that…?"

Puck beckoned him into the room. Finn came over and sat down beside him on the bed, huddling close with a hungry expression. He looked at Puck, his eyes wide, and Puck nodded. They sat there until the very last _a cappella_ chorus:

 _Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans  
_ _Be my teenage dream tonight_

" _That was great!"_ Blaine's voice exclaimed, amid whoops and cheers. _"I think we should —"_ The sound cut off.

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. He touched Puck's wrist. "Would you send me a copy of that?"

"Yeah, sure, man." Puck blinked for a moment, realizing. "He didn't send it to you?"

"No, no," said Finn, waving it off. "This is _your_ song. We've got lots of stuff we sing together. You know that U2 song, _I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For?_ He did that at Irene's way back at the beginning, before we formed Labyrinth with Carl. And the Indigo Girls one, _Kid Fears._ Lots of stuff." He smiled encouragingly at Puck, and Puck felt his shoulders settle a little with the approval. "You get to have this."

"Yeah?" Puck gazed down at the phone. He wanted to listen to it again, right away. "I don't know. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing."

"What do you mean?"

Puck shrugged. "Thinking this thing with Blaine matters so much. Who has this many big-deal relationships in one year? There was you and Kurt last October, then Adam in December, then _Blaine_ this summer…"

"It is a big deal," Finn said quietly. He slid his hand up the center of Puck's back to gently squeeze his neck, then moved it back to his shoulder. "He… he's a big deal. For all of us." He nodded at the phone. "You going to tell him?"

For a moment, Puck felt a wave of terror. "Tell him what?"

"What you thought about the song." He glanced at Puck curiously. "What did you…?"

"Nothing," Puck said hurriedly. He fumbled with the phone, tapping at the keyboard. _Awesome, babe,_ he sent.

"Puck." The Voice was unmistakable. Puck closed his eyes.

"I — said something to him today. About being, um. Around. For as long as he wanted me." When Finn just nodded for him to go on, he squirmed a little. "I don't know. It felt like…"

"Like what?" Finn prompted, his voice still gentle.

He took a long breath. "Like a promise. A real one. Like… that one time with Kurt last January, when I told Kurt I wanted him to be my baby. And you were there, and I said it felt — like I'd kind of proposed, and you said —" He couldn't meet Finn's eyes. "You said I should warn you if I was gonna do that. Because you'd want to get two rings."

"Yeah." Finn didn't sound upset. "This feels like that?"

"Well, kind of. I think it was just then when I realized how I felt about you."

Finn cocked his head, confused. "About _me?"_

"Yeah. That I wanted you to make those kind of decisions, for me."

Now Finn looked completely floored. "You mean… if I proposed to Kurt, that would count for you, too?"

Puck relaxed, smiling. "Yeah. Because I'm already — I mean, I told you before. Where you go, I go, right?"

"Mine," Finn whispered. He was still searching Puck's eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it, because he reached in to cup Puck's face before claiming a long kiss. Puck made a noise into his mouth.

"Yes sir," he whispered back, when he could talk again.

Finn nodded, sitting back. His eyes were as serious as Puck had ever seen them. "What if I told you I already talked to Kurt about this, and told him it was too soon for us to think about getting married?"

Puck nodded back. _Yes, sir,_ was about all he could imagine saying, and he'd already said it. It all felt okay. Finn was taking care of it.

Finn cupped Puck's hand in his own, cradling the phone containing Blaine's song. "And… you know how I feel about Blaine, and about Kurt."

He nodded again. This time Finn smiled, somewhat ruefully.

"Have you noticed the diamond anklet Kurt's been wearing this summer?"

Puck thought about it for a minute, and nodded, slowly. He didn't really notice stuff like that, but he could recall it now that Finn mentioned it.

Finn sighed, studying his lap. "That was from me, for his birthday. My not-engagement present to him. It wasn't going to be a collar," he added, at Puck's look, "but I wanted it to be _something._ Something important."

"So how do you know when you're ready to do something like that for real?" Puck asked.

"I don't know," said Finn. "I think there has to be a reason. A reason to change what we already have. Not just because I don't want him to leave or whatever. I mean… if he wanted to leave, he should leave."

"What do you mean, leave?" Puck felt himself tensing up as his voice rose. "Kurt's not leaving."

"No, no." Finn tightened his hand around Puck's. "I don't think he would. I'm just saying _he_ should be able to. He can make his own decisions."

Puck suddenly realized Finn wasn't really talking about Kurt. "But not Blaine. Blaine can't make his own decisions?"

"I don't know," Finn admitted in a low voice. "I don't know if he even knows what that means. Or if I would even offer it to him, if he did. I mean, how would it feel to _you_ if I told you you should make your own decisions about your life?"

Just the idea, coming from Finn, was so unexpected and appalling that Puck felt like he might suddenly puke all over the floor. As he began to shake, Finn let the phone fall to Puck's lap and used both arms to wrap him up in a tight hug.

"I'm not doing that, okay?" Finn promised, right into his ear. "I'm not. You're mine, and you always will be. No matter what."

Puck took a few minutes to remember how to breathe, and let himself regain his equilibrium. "Yes sir," he said at last. He felt Finn kiss his cheek, and whimpered when Finn pulled away.

"I have to get my car," Finn said. It was kind of an apology. He stood up, holding out a hand. "You drive."

It wasn't a question, like the one Finn had come into his room to ask. This was a command, and just the act of obeying it made Puck feel better. But after they'd settled into Puck's Impala, before he pulled out of the garage, Puck made himself look at Finn.

"If you ever stop wanting that," he said, with an effort, "you… you should tell me. Okay? I don't want you to be in charge of me unless _you_ want to be."

Even as he said it, he recognized the incredulous look on Finn's face. It was just like the one he'd worn himself earlier that afternoon, when Blaine had said _but I'm not doing anything, is that really good enough? You just want me to lie back and take it?_ He knew exactly what Finn's look meant: _of course I want that, are you fucking crazy?_

Puck ducked his face, feeling his cheeks heat, and but he suddenly felt a lot calmer. He grinned as he put the car in gear.

"After we pick up my car from the garage," said Finn, resting a confident hand on Puck's knee, "I'll show you just how _in charge_ of you I want to be."


	3. Auditions Part 1

_(Author's note: Quoting therein from 2x01 Auditions, with several tweaks. There's a lot going on in season 2 that doesn't have anything to do with our boys… or does it? You'll have to wait and find out._ _-amy)_

* * *

 _There's definitely something missing in today's music, in the scene. We don't have a lot of men onstage doing flamboyant or theatrical. We have a lot of female pop stars doing it, but where are the guys, you know — where's that classic rock — or pop — showman?_

 _-Adam Lambert on NPR's All Things Considered, August 30, 2010_

* * *

Episode 2x01: Auditions

"I can't _believe_ Jacob Ben Israel's gall," Kurt snapped, wiping cherry slushy out of his eyes and flinging it to the concrete. "What made him decide Glee was the most important target — and I use the word advisedly — for his first day of junior year? Doesn't he have his _own_ life to deal with?"

Burt passed him a towel and patted the edge of the passenger seat of his truck. Still fuming, Kurt hopped into the cab and took a seat with his legs hanging out into the parking lot.

"Maybe you're just mad you forgot to bring a change of clothes on the first day of school?" asked Puck.

"Puck," Burt said mildly.

Kurt wasn't pausing in his diatribe. "I mean, first of all, he starts following Rachel and Finn around, making them out to be the next big thing, and Finn hardly gets a word in edgewise — and, okay, maybe controllist _isn't_ a word, but she doesn't have to be so obnoxious about it. _We've been dating all summer,_ my foot. She's been at music camp all summer!"

"Doesn't having something with Rachel help him keep his low profile?" Burt asked.

"And then Jacob brings up the USA Today photo of Mr. Schuester and Toby kissing at the pride parade," Kurt went on. "Isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

Puck exchanged a look with Burt. "Because they were in the… paper? Which is public?"

"That's beside the point!" Kurt hollered. He gritted his teeth, digging behind his ear with the towel to get the last of the slushy.

"He was convinced I'd had a vasectomy," Puck told Burt with a grin. "I think he cut out the part where I told him I quit pool cleaning and took care of my kid all summer. I guess it wasn't glamorous enough for his blog or something."

"He hounded Quinn, too," added Kurt. "And Santana, for god knows what. Did she really have a boob job? You know what, on second thought, don't answer that. None of this matters." He glared at his father, then at Puck. "None of this _matters."_

"I know," said Puck. He took Kurt's hand. "We had the most awesome summer. And nobody cares. Isn't that how we wanted it?"

Kurt tossed the towel on the floor of the truck and sighed more loudly. "This morning, Dave threw a slushy in my _face._ You're asking me if this is how I want it?"

"Kurt, you're just having a hard time readjusting after the summer," Burt said. He was trying to be soothing, but Puck could tell Kurt wasn't about to be soothed. "You've done this pretending stuff before, and you can handle this. Now go in and finish up your day. How does your schedule look?"

"Fine," Kurt grumbled. "Lunch is next. The three of us have two classes together besides Glee. British literature and algebra. And I have French fifth period while Finn and Puck are in Spanish."

"Sounds like it's not so bad." Burt patted Kurt's shoulder. "There's another change of clothes in the bag, just in case. I'll see you boys at home."

Kurt hopped out of the truck and watched his dad drive away. He scowled ferociously. "I didn't even thank him for the clothes." He glanced at Puck, who was holding out his phone. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Look," Puck said.

Kurt focused on the screen of Puck's phone as he called up the picture of Blaine under the trees, the one he'd taken the day before at Dalton. He watched Kurt's face visibly soften.

"Better than funny cat pictures, right?" Puck gave him a hopeful smile. "See, life's not so bad. Can we go to lunch now?"

* * *

Finn made an attempt to escape from government right at the bell and head up to the attic room, but Rachel caught him in the hall before he could manage to reach the staircase. She smiled and closed with him in a way that definitely said _I want something from you._

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said. "The way I was in front of Jacob and the camera. I wasn't going to turn down a moment in the spotlight."

"I'm okay with that," he said. "You can have it. I don't want the spotlight. I'd just as soon it… light something other than this spot, actually."

She smiled harder and placed a hand on his chest. "I missed you this summer."

"I missed you too, Rach." He tried to smile back, dodging to one side, but she held him back.

"I figured that little white lie I told about us dating all summer would throw them off the scent. You know." Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. "About all your boyfriends."

Finn winced. "Uh, yeah. Thanks for that. Rach, I really want to catch up, but I'm kind of —" He nodded at the hallway. She finally got the hint, taking a few steps back, her eyes getting wide.

"You could come over after school," she said at normal volume. It didn't sound like she was pretending. "I'd like to hear about your summer."

 _No, you wouldn't._ Finn was fairly certain Rachel wasn't going to like hearing about his summer. He could tell her about Spanish class and parts of RENT, but he couldn't mention anything about the Adam Lambert concert, not to mention hooking back up with her biological father. Not that she would know who _he_ was. She still thought her adoptive gay dads had provided the paternal DNA. Still, he didn't want her to think he didn't care. He sighed.

"Football starts today, but I could come over for a little while after that, before dinner?"

Her persistent smile made him more uncomfortable than happy. She kissed him quickly on the cheek, then drifted off backward down the hallway, giving him a little sappy wave before stumbling into a bunch of sophomores.

"Adding to your harem, Hudson?"

He turned to see Lauren watching him. Her tone was bored and she didn't look all that interested, but he shrugged anyway.

"She's my… exception."

She mirrored his shrug. "Whatever. You don't have to justify your tastes to me, no matter how bizarre they might be. I was just heading by the gym and I saw the new _football coach_ setting up her office." Now Lauren's pencil-thin eyebrows went up.

"Yeah, I know about that. I heard Six was coming to work here." It wasn't even the most uncomfortable way in which his after-school activities were suddenly merging with his during-school ones. That honor would have to fall to Ms. Pillsbury being his ex's girlfriend. _Sort-of ex._ He shook off the confusion. "Her real name's Shannon something. Beastly?"

" _Beiste._ It's French. Apt name. If she's as hard on you guys as she is on her proteges, you're in for it. Well… toodles!" She gave Finn a little wave that was a perfect ironic replica of Rachel's and continued on down the hall.

Finn managed not to be stopped by any more people on his way up to the third floor. The key stuck a little in the lock, but he got the door open. The attic room was just as they'd left it in the spring; as Kurt had suspected, none of the janitors or anyone else seemed to be bothering with it. Brad had bequeathed it to them, and even though they had their own house now, it was still good to have a place at school where they didn't have to be anybody other than who they were.

With a long sigh, Finn dropped into the chair by the window and took out his phone. There were two texts from Blaine. One was a snapshot of him and his roommate Trey in their uniforms, waving. Blaine looked completely calm and happy, but Finn knew better than to trust that expression. His hair was perfectly gelled.

 _Back to pretending,_ Finn thought morosely.

"Remind me why this is a good thing, again?" he muttered to himself. There was no answer, of course, but he didn't expect one. Even a haunted attic didn't talk back.

The other text from Blaine was a lyric from a song, and it did make Finn smile.

 _1 text - Blaine Anderson  
_ _8:26 AM - Sat by the river and it made me complete_

Blaine had sung that song for him the first time he'd visited their house, before construction had been completed — before they'd acknowledged the extent of their feelings for one another. Now, every time Finn went out to work on the landscaping or help his mom with the new plants in the garden, it felt a little like he was working on making a safe place for Blaine — for all his boys. _Somewhere only we know._ It wasn't unlike Toby's house, or this attic room at school, but the house and the yard and the garden were special. It was _his_ — as much as Kurt and Puck and Blaine were his.

He sent Blaine a reply: _I'm going to Spanish next. Four classes down, two to go. Love you, baby._

It wasn't exactly a good sign that it was only the first day of school and Finn was already counting down the hours in the day. Summer school hadn't been anything like this. At least next hour he would see Puck in Spanish. And then there was Glee, and then football, and then he could catch up with Rachel, and _then_ he could come home to Puck and Kurt and Sarah and his mom and Burt. That was everybody in his family but two: Bethie, who was spending her week at Shelby's, and Blaine, who was too far away in Westerville.

 _And Carl,_ added the insidious voice. Carl, who was officially his ex, but who'd still said _I love you_ on the phone on his way to Chicago, and who'd given Finn one really good night of memories and a lot to think about after the Adam Lambert concert in July. No, Carl wasn't family, but he was… something. Finn just couldn't figure out what that something was.

* * *

Nobody commented on how good Puck's back-to-school lasagna was, but Puck guessed this was more due to exhaustion than disapproval. He let the silence stand, passing the crusty garlic bread down the table and back several times while everybody ate. Eventually, Carole put on a determinedly cheerful smile.

"So how was school?" she asked, and took a scoop of broccoli. "Sarah, you go first. Was eighth grade any different than the last one?"

Sarah made a disgusted face. "Is this a thing? Do real parents actually ask this question?"

"I do," said Carole firmly.

Finn nodded regretful affirmation. "Just answer," he advised her. "It's easier."

"No more Skypeing with Lauren this year, which sucks." Sarah tucked her newly-dyed forelock of purple hair behind her ear. "Classes are the same. The kids are just older. Oh, except Marley Rose has apparently taken her eighth-grade mentor role a little too seriously. She's terminally cheerful. I keep wondering what I could tell her that would scare her enough to stop trying to befriend me." She sent a hopeful glance down the table toward Burt. "Tatenui, can I tell her we buried bodies under the foundation of the house?"

"No," Burt said, grinning. "I'm sure you can be a lot more creative than that. Without resorting to the truth."

"Oh, well." She shrugged. "Then can I have Frances over for dinner tomorrow?"

Carole looked at Burt, then nodded. "As long as her mom says yes."

Puck suspected that had been Sarah's actual goal all along, and she'd just asked for something outrageous to make it easier for Carole to say yes. He could have reminded her that Carole actually _did_ say yes to things, and they didn't need to manipulate her or Burt into doing things like that, the way they had with their own mother, but he decided to remain silent.

"How about you, Finn?" she went on, turning toward him. "How was football?"

"I don't know yet. We have this new coach. She's — uh, a friend of Carl's. Maybe you know her?"

His mom went a little red and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Anyway, we're not going to talk about that stuff at school, so…" He made a useless gesture. "I guess I'll just do my best to pretend it's normal."

"That's the spirit. How was Rachel's summer? You were at her house this afternoon, weren't you?"

Finn nodded. "I didn't tell her about Blaine yet," he said to Kurt.

"That's up to you," Kurt assured him. "You can bet none of us will be pushing you to play boyfriend-girlfriend with Rachel Berry. But you can if you want to," he added, at the look he got from Carole. "What? I didn't say anything bad."

"Kurt," sighed Finn, "you don't get to make judgments about my friends as long as you're rehabilitating _Dave Karofsky."_

"Fine! Fine. Just — don't expect me to be around when you _do_ tell her about Blaine. She's more jealous than Quinn, and that's saying something." Kurt brushed his bangs back and chewed on a mushroom. "We sang that New York song in the courtyard at the end of Glee. I admit it was nice to sing with everyone again."

The silence settled over them again. Carole frowned.

"Come on, school can't be all that bad. It's only the first day."

Sarah looked at each of her brothers in turn, then back at Carole. "It's just because being _here_ all summer was so much better."

They all nodded glumly. Burt shrugged, setting down his fork.

"Well, sometimes, you've gotta do the thing you _have_ to do first, in order to get to the thing you _want_ to do." He pointed at Kurt. "It's an economical exchange, right? Work for pay. You do your homework, go to school, then on the weekend…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Puck knew Finn and Kurt were all thinking the same thing he was. _Blaine._

"When I go get Beth on Friday night, I can pick up Blaine and bring him here," Puck said. He could feel his face heating up as he made the suggestion, but his voice was steady.

That made Kurt sit up a little straighter in his chair. "Would that be okay? Finn, what about band practice in Columbus?"

"I don't think we're going to do that," Finn said slowly. "I'm not sure yet."

"You'd be welcome to invite him to come," Carole said, and Burt nodded. "We certainly have the space. As long as you all get your homework done."

Everybody seemed a little more cheerful after that. While Kurt talked about French class, Puck got up to clear the dishes and bring out the raspberries and ice cream. He was still getting used to the way the new kitchen worked, where everything was kept and the quickest ways to get in and out of the dining room without interrupting people's dinner. It was a little like figuring out a phrase in music.

He was distracted enough by this process that he didn't notice Carole and Finn talking in the doorway until things had already gotten heated.

"I'm _not_ telling you that," Carole was saying. "You know I like Blaine. I'm just saying I want you to be a little careful."

Finn made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Mom, I really don't think you understand how hard it is, having him halfway across the state."

"I _understand_ ," she said, her voice tight. "And I also _understand_ that you have plenty of commitments right here. It's not summer anymore. School comes first."

"You know I care about school," he said. He sounded more agitated than annoyed. Puck came over to stand very close beside him, and Finn laid a hand on the waistband of his jeans. "I _did_ school all summer."

"Yes, and you did very well. That's what I'm talking about, Finn. You did well because you focused on one thing. During the school week, the things happening right here — in this town, this house — this needs to be your focus."

He paused, then let out a quiet laugh. "Are you sure you're talking about me, here?"

Carole's eyes flew open. Puck caught his breath at the uncharacteristic outrage on her face, but he didn't move back from where Finn was standing with his arm around his waist. Finn just held his ground.

"Excuse me, young man?"

"I know where _you've_ been spending your weekends," Finn went on, still quietly. "It's a long drive to Columbus."

Puck thought Carole might actually yell at Finn. He was definitely crossing a line, bringing up Carole's not-so-secret visits to Irene's. She'd been going down almost every weekend for most of the summer. All of the boys knew, and Sarah, but Puck wasn't sure if Burt did.

Finn and Carole stared at one another for a long moment. But then Finn ran a hand over his face and sighed, looking down.

"I'm not saying anything bad about her, Mom. I'm saying — I'd think you would understand that sometimes it's hard to focus on what's in front of you."

"I do know, honey." Carole still looked angry, but she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. "I'm not saying it's not going to be hard."

Finn leaned his head over and rested it against Puck's, just briefly. Puck felt it like a kiss, and he leaned back into him, letting his body take the weight of Finn's burden.

"It's not even so much about what I want," said Finn. "It's hard to think about Blaine being all alone at Dalton. He _needs_ us."

Carole flickered a look into the dining room where Kurt and Burt were still sitting, apparently talking about French while Sarah interjected snarky comments. The space between the kitchen and the table was wide enough that they weren't listening in on their conversation, although Sarah was looking up every few moments and watching them carefully.

"Sometimes it's not a choice between having what makes you happy and being responsible," Carole said, still holding his hand. "Sometimes being responsible for others is the choice that is going to make the difference, even if you don't end up happy."

Finn looked ambivalent about that answer, but Carole added quietly, "Finn. Don't argue with me about this. You get a lot of say as an adult member of this household, but you're going to have to let me put my foot down sometimes about things I think are important."

Finn's expression was not all that pleased, but he didn't attempt to persuade her any further. Puck decided the dishes had waited long enough and returned to the table without Finn to clear away the ice cream. The arguing didn't bother him. That had always been a normal part of his home life. It made him feel jittery, though, when Finn was unhappy and he couldn't do anything about it.

Finn's phone was sitting beside his chair. When Puck picked it up, it showed two missed calls from Rachel and a text from Blaine. He brought the phone with him into the kitchen and showed Finn the screen.

"Do you want to talk to Rachel?" he asked Finn.

Finn took the phone and grimaced, thumbing through the messages.

"Not tonight. She just wants to schedule more dates with me. I'm really not ready to explain Blaine to her."

"Dating on a schedule," said Puck, shaking his head. "I really don't get that."

Kurt moved in from the doorway to the kitchen to stand beside Puck, facing Finn. The three of them automatically shifted into a closed circle, their arms locking them into connection.

"Sometimes a schedule is useful, though," Kurt said. "Like when one person doesn't feel like they're getting what they need. Blaine knows he'll see Finn on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and he'll be seeing you on Fridays and Sundays if you'll be bringing him back with you when you pick up Bethie."

Finn thought about this. "Do you want a day on the schedule for you and Blaine?"

"Maybe not a permanent day. I think my cheerleading schedule is going to be too busy and erratic for that. But I think Blaine would like it if we could each schedule a date night with him. And with one another, too."

Puck thought about the message waiting for him on his own phone, the one he hadn't been sure if he wanted to answer or not. He cleared his throat. "Maybe we shouldn't start this week. My dad wants to meet for dinner, just me and him."

Kurt's hand tightened on his arm. "Oh. Do you really think you should —?"

"I don't know," he said. He looked at the floor. "Maybe? He's been kind of… he's been all right, these past couple times we got together. I think I'm going to try to let him attempt this dad thing. Even if he wasn't crazy to hear about Blaine."

"Well, I think I'd like to plan a date for you and Blaine," Kurt told him. That made Puck smile.

"You do remember what happened the last time we tried to do date night? Things kind of blew up for us." He chewed at his pinky finger, watching both of them. "Maybe Carole's right. We should just cool it for a while."

Finn zeroed in on Puck's face. This had the effect of turning off Puck's words and making him breathe a little faster.

"My mom just said we should focus on what we have," Finn said evenly. "I think a little intentional time together would be… good."

 _Focus,_ thought Puck faintly. "Yeah," he said, "yeah, that sounds… yeah."

Kurt gathered him up and breathed into his neck, holding him tightly until he was calm again.

"You'll sleep with Finn tonight," Kurt whispered.

"Yes sir," Puck whispered back. Now that Beth was gone, he had no routine for his nights. Kurt had picked up on this and decided he would be in charge of where Puck would sleep. Sometimes Kurt chose for Puck to be by himself, which was fine, and other times he was with Finn or Kurt, which was even better. Sometimes Kurt told him to sleep in Sarah's room, and that was good too, considering they saw a lot less of each other these days.

Finn finished clearing the table while Kurt led Puck into the kitchen, stationing him at the sink. He put a comforting hand on the small of his back, and Puck relaxed into Kurt's strength. He felt a surge of gratitude.

"Thank you, sir."

Kurt's smile was pleased, which made the feeling ten times as good. "When you're done here, call Adam. Then Finn will put you to bed."

 _Put you to bed_ , when it came to Finn, inevitably involved collar and cuffs. All of their beds had hooks embedded in the hardware now, so no matter where Puck slept, he could count on that being available to him. He nodded, and bent his head to the dishes.

He lost some time after that, as often happened when he focused on a particular task, like changing oil at the garage or singing in Glee. When he'd recovered enough to notice what he was doing, the kitchen was clean and Finn was leading him upstairs.

"Adam," he managed, and Finn nodded, gripping his arm.

"After I get you undressed," Finn murmured.

Puck wasn't about to argue with Finn. He just stood quietly as Finn stripped off his clothes, one piece at a time. Once Puck was naked, he settled on his desk chair, resting his hand on Puck's head.

"Go ahead," Finn said, and smiled.

Puck fumbled for his phone and pressed the speed dial for Adam's cell phone. It wasn't easy to find him while he was on tour, especially considering he was currently in the midwest. At this point in the evening, Adam would already be in makeup and talking with fans, if he wasn't on stage. But he made a point of carrying his phone with him as long as he was backstage, and if Puck or Kurt called, he answered. Tonight was one of those nights.

 _"Honey,"_ Adam breathed on the other end of the line. Puck closed his eyes on the word, feeling it penetrate.

"I'm here, Adam," he said. He could hear the background noise of the crew getting ready. He didn't take his eyes off Finn.

 _"I'm so glad you called. How was your first day back to school?"_

The only people on tour who knew everything about Adam's current situation were Angela, who did a good job masquerading as a personal assistant, Tommy, who hated everything about Adam's relationship with Kurt and Puck, and Crystal, his security guard who couldn't care less about his personal choices. Puck wondered which of them were paying attention to what he was saying.

"It was okay?" he said, tasting the words. He hadn't talked to anybody about his day. "It's the same, really. We have a new football coach who's in the scene. She's not giving us an easy out, though. She's making all of us start over and prove ourselves."

 _"Sounds like a valid plan."_ gentle. Puck wished he could feel Adam's hands on his skin. He wondered if they would feel as gentle as his voice sounded. _"Let me know how that goes. I'll call Kurt when we're done here. We're in the middle of a goodbye soiree for Longineu Parsons. He's taking off at the end of September. Isaac Carpenter is replacing him, though, and he's amazing. It'll be fine."_

Puck didn't hear any anxiety in Adam's voice, but he knew Adam was good at masking it. He settled on the ground in front of Finn's chair, resting a hand on his Finn's thigh. His own cock was distractingly hard. Finn sighed quietly at his touch, letting his legs fall open a little.

"I'm gonna have dinner with my dad this week," he said. It was always easier to tell the honest truth when he was under the control of one of his Tops. He heard Adam's hummed response.

 _"You're going to tell him about Blaine."_

"He already knows." Puck tipped his head up at Finn, waiting for some indication about what he should do, but Finn just sat there, his hand resting on Puck's head. Puck could see from his excellent vantage point that Finn's cock was as hard as his own. He swallowed. "Finn is — I'm watching him, and he's — ready for me. Waiting to touch. And I want to."

 _"I bet you do."_ Adam sounded proud, not mad. Puck couldn't have kept the truth from him any more than he could have pretended not to be turned on by it, but it was a relief to hear his relaxed tone. It made it easier to ask for the next thing.

"Can I — can I suck his cock? Please?"

"Yes," Finn murmured, almost at the same time that Adam said, " _Of course, honey."_

It didn't matter who he was asking, or who was giving him permission. Puck shifted forward on his knees, settling closer between Finn's thighs, running a hand up and down the length of Finn's jeans-clad thigh, watching his cock twitch. They made simultaneous noises.

 _"I'm going to say good night, honey,"_ said Adam, still sounded completely loving. _"You be Finn's good boy. I'll talk with you tomorrow."_

"All right," he said, then added, "I love you," just because he knew Kurt would have made him say it. Finn smiled. Puck hung up the phone and let it slip to the ground, then turned all his attention to serving Finn the best way he knew how.

 _Finn's good boy,_ he thought, letting his awareness slip away. In moments like this, he could almost believe it.


	4. Auditions Part 2

Finn decided he didn't need to pretend to want to see Six — _Coach Beiste,_ he corrected himself — and just waited outside her office until she noticed him. She gave him what looked like a smile.

"All right, Finn Hudson," she said. "Come in and shut the door."

He closed it behind himself and sat on the chair across from her desk. Through the window, he could see Puck and the rest of the guys in the locker room, digging into the stack of pizzas that had been delivered. The coach had a pizza box on her desk. She opened the box and shoved it toward him. They both took a piece.

"So go ahead," she said through her mouthful of pizza. "You got something to say, then say it."

"No, no," he said quickly. "I just… I don't actually know what to say. Hi?" He grinned tentatively. She smiled back with thin lips. "Is this totally weird?"

"This is totally weird," she agreed grimly. "But I knew what I was getting into by coming here. You, and Jane — _Emma —_ and Lauren… I'm not gonna cross any boundaries, and you'd better not do that either, you hear me? This is strictly business. This ain't Tib's coffee shop, and we ain't friends here. You kids, I'm your teacher, that's it."

"Yeah, absolutely. I got it." He shifted in his seat. "I think I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about the pizzas. I'm pretty sure that was Coach Sylvester's prank."

"And your Glee coach, Mr. Schuester."

"Oh — no, he wouldn't do that. Coach Sylvester is pretty awful, but Mr. Schue, he's a nice guy."

"Hmph." She looked less than convinced, but her expression had thawed a little. "He wasn't happy to hear about the ten percent cut to his Glee budget, even though it was mandated at the district level." She chewed as she regarded him. "You guys sounded good at lunch on that New York number. You always sing around school like that, just because?"

"Sometimes. It's pretty awesome. Me and Puck and Kurt…" He paused. "And, uh. Patrick. He goes to another school."

"I know," she said quietly. "The four of you. You've talked about your boys in group, though you didn't use names, but I know who they are now. Can't say I ever expected to be coaching two of you. And Kurt's really on the Cheerios?"

"He really is. He's awesome."

She leaned forward with a heavy sigh. "So maybe I shouldn't warn you, but I'm gonna cut all of you from the team, start fresh."

"Oh." Finn swallowed his surprise, then nodded, taking another bite of pizza. "Okay, yeah."

"You gonna give me a hard time for giving you a hard time? I don't want anything that looks like favoritism. If people did find out about you and me knowing each other, it'll be easier if —"

"No, I really get this," Finn interrupted. "We're… kind of good at pretending. I hate it, though."

Her face was kind. "It stinks, having parts of yourself you can't share."

He nodded. "We've got a lot of people on our side, though."

"Well, no matter how it looks from the outside, I'm one of them." She stood up, nodding at the boys outside the window. "I'm gonna yell at you now. Go ahead and open the door."

He scrambled out of his seat and went for the door, letting it swing open as the coach bawled some confusing comments about pigs and spaghetti. As he scooted back into the locker room, the rest of the team shared a commiserating grimace.

"Man, this sucks," said one of the juniors. "She's worse than Tanaka."

"She's just being fair," said the new blonde kid. Finn nodded.

"I'll have to prove myself," he said. "Honestly."

He could feel the impulse inside him changing, like a switch. _If I don't have to lie,_ he thought, making his way through the hallway, _I'm not going to. Even if it's hard, it's better than pretending._

He found Rachel hanging Glee posters outside the girls' bathroom by the physics lab. "Hey," he said, taking the roll of tape as she stuck up the last one.

She gave him a delighted smile. It was a little distressing how easy it was to make her happy. He steeled himself.

"I wanted to tell you something."

Rachel's smile faltered a little, but she nodded, following him around the corner into the stairwell. He took her into a hug, letting her rest against his chest.

"What is it?" she said.

"It's about my summer. I didn't tell you the whole truth. The truth is… I met someone." He felt her stiffen. "Somebody I told you about last spring, the boy from the other school."

" _Another_ boy?"

"He's… Kurt was in RENT with him this summer. We were already, uh, friends, and then he and Kurt… and Puck. They all kind of fell for him." He couldn't keep some of the feelings from leaking out as he spoke. "And so did I."

"Oh." She didn't move from within his arms, but she did stay very quiet.

"His name's Blaine. He sings with his show choir at Dalton, the Warblers. He's their lead, and he's amazing, really talented. We're all kind of… into him, a lot. And we miss him." He took her shoulders and leaned her back far enough to look into her face. "I wanted you to know because I care about you, and I don't want to have secrets from you."

She nodded, swallowing bravely. "Thank you. Does he… I mean, do the two of you… the four of you, do that… thing you were telling me about? With the, um. The handcuffs?"

"Yeah," he said. "He really needs that. Discipline. And Kurt and Puck do it with him, too. You'd have to ask them for details."

Rachel let out a little unhappy laugh. "I don't want details."

"It's not about sex," Finn protested. That wasn't quite right, but he didn't want to dig himself any deeper by qualifying that. "Sometimes he just doesn't know how to make a good decision — or he does something without thinking. Or he feels overwhelmed by all the stuff he's hearing from his dad and his teachers and his friends. That's how we help him."

She took a step back, her eyes flickering away as she reclaimed her roll of tape from Finn's hands. "I think I'd better put up some more posters."

"All right."

He didn't say _I'm sorry._ It wasn't going to be something he apologized for. Either she would understand, or she wouldn't. He didn't push for more contact, either. Letting her put some space between them was probably a good thing.

* * *

The young server, Bilal, came out from behind the counter when Puck opened the door to Lazeza, smiling quizzically.

"Where's your sister?" he asked. "And the baby?"

"Beth's with her mom," Puck said. "Sarah's home tonight. It's just me and my dad."

Puck waited at a corner table, not really looking at the menu. Whatever he ordered would be good, but there was something about hanging out with his dad that gave him a stomachache. He gave his dad a wave when he came in through the door, but didn't get up to hug him or anything.

"It's good to have a little man-to-man," said his dad. "How's the little peanut?"

He tried not to bristle at his dad's use of the nickname Shelby had for Beth. She didn't look anything like a peanut. "Good, I guess? I don't get to see her until Friday."

His dad shot him a sympathetic nod over the menu. "It's hard being away from your kid."

Puck fiddled with his napkin. "How come you never told me about _your_ other kid?"

"How did you…?" his dad said, looking startled.

"Sarah told me, after you said this summer that you'd gotten four times the practice holding babies. Three Puckermans plus one more equals four. She didn't tell me anything else, but she told me there was another kid."

His dad nodded slowly. "He… it's your brother. He's a Puckerman, too."

Another brother didn't sound like the end of the world. Puck nodded.

"He's living with his mom, finishing up middle school. His mom and I don't get along so good, but I see him every month. Sarah sometimes came with us when we'd get together. She wanted to tell you about Jake, but I wasn't ready, so you can blame me for that."

"I'm not blaming you." Puck was kind of surprised to find he didn't.

His dad reached across the table, putting a hand on top of Puck's, which was even more surprising. "Jake needs a good male role model in his life. And seeing you, how you're taking care of Beth… you're really becoming a man. I may not agree with your lifestyle, but the stuff you're doing right now, Noah, I'm proud of you."

The whole conversation was so bizarre, Puck wasn't sure what to say. He just nodded.

His dad didn't say much more until after Bilal had taken their order and they were partway through their chicken shawarma.

"I have this men's group," he said. "It's kind of an interfaith thing, organized through the synagogue in Cleveland. It meets tonight, after this. I'd like you to come with me."

"To shul?" Puck blinked. "You've been going to services?"

"This isn't shul, but yes, I've been going a lot this past year. I know you went some, after your Ma passed."

Puck could only think about the service he and Adam had attended in Santa Fe, where he'd said the mourner's kaddish. He'd said it a bunch more times in the past year, mostly when Kurt couldn't hear him, because he knew how Kurt felt about religion. He nodded.

"You think you might want to come talk with some other Jewish men about their experiences? They're good guys, really. I think you'd like it."

Puck couldn't think of any reason to say no, so he agreed. They finished off the meal in a surprisingly companionable way. Then Puck got in his Impala and followed his dad's truck across town.

They pulled into a church parking lot, but he didn't think much of that. His dad had said it was an interfaith thing, after all. His dad beckoned him to follow him under the street light through a side door and down a half-set of steps into the basement.

"Here you go," said his dad, indicating the room ahead of them where a group of about a half-dozen men were sitting together talking. They were of all ages, but most of them were younger than his dad and older than him. He paused at the doorway, looking at the brochure his dad handed him.

"Jews for Jesus?" he said dubiously.

"Give it a fair shot," said his dad. "Just like you did with me, okay? They're good guys."

 _Not like your guys at home,_ Puck guessed his dad was really saying, but he tried to turn off the commentary in his head and just listen, the way he could do when Finn and Kurt and Adam were taking care of him. He came into the room and sat down in the circle, shaking hands.

"This is my son, Noah," said his dad, and he sounded so proud that Puck could only smile.

* * *

It was after midnight by the time Puck rolled into the driveway, parking in the back garage. The frogs and insects were much louder at their new house than they had been in Kurt's neighborhood. Puck climbed the stairs to his bedroom and immediately opened the window so he could hear them.

He took his phone out and sent a text to Blaine. _Home now._

 _Thanks for letting me know,_ Blaine replied immediately. _I know you're a safe driver, it just makes me feel better to know you're OK._

Puck felt the warmth in his stomach that seemed to be reserved especially for Blaine. It didn't matter at all _what_ he said.

 _Yeah,_ he typed back. _OK if I call you?_

This was a strange enough desire that Puck had to wonder if he was under some kind of mind control. He hated talking on the phone almost as much as he hated writing. Not to mention he'd just left Blaine's dorm a couple of hours ago — and he still wanted to talk to him.

 _Yes please,_ came Blaine's reply.

Puck shucked his jeans on the floor of his room, turned off the lights and crawled in under the blanket. It was the one he'd brought back from Santa Fe for Kurt, but Kurt had asked him to keep it in his room. He listened to the frogs through the open window while the phone rang for Blaine.

 _"You really don't have to call,"_ said Blaine when he picked up. " _Not that I don't love it."_

"I know." Puck couldn't keep the stupid smile off his face. "It's not for you, it's for me. I want to. Which is pretty weird for me."

 _"I know. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted some time away from me."_

"Uh, no. Not actually wanting that. That's kind of the opposite of what I want." He thought about some of the things the guys at his dad's group had said tonight, about what kind of person a man should be. _Honest. Selfless. Able and willing to provide and protect his family._ "I want… to take care of you."

He could hear Blaine's smile. _"Yeah?"_

"Yeah. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. I mean, I _do,_ but — it just comes naturally with you." He rolled over onto his side, looking out the window into the night. With the lights off, he could just see the field and the trees on the horizon beyond. "That's kind of weird, too."

 _"Not a bad weird, though?"_ Blaine didn't actually sound too worried.

"Not bad. I think I dreamed about all the things I wanted to do with you for long enough that actually doing them feels kind of normal."

 _"Those dreams."_ His voice grew even more hushed. _"I still don't understand how that happened. Are you still having them?"_

Puck didn't really want to tell Blaine that he'd been having bad dreams of late, not the kind that reminded him of the past, but the kind that told about a confusing future. Most of them involved a beach. In one of them he was flying an airplane. There was still another one with a large yellow truck.

"Not _those_ dreams," he said. "Maybe now that we know each other, they're not important anymore."

 _"I still have them sometimes. Mostly when Finn's not here. In the last one Bethie was running around in this park in a big city, climbing up to the top of the play structure and jumping off."_

"She's gonna be able to do that someday. Jump and run and talk and everything."

 _"I know."_ Blaine sounded amazed. _"I wonder if she'll sound anything in real life like she does in my dreams."_

"I wonder what her first word will be."

Blaine laughed. _"If it's not Papa, I'll be shocked."_

Puck licked his lips. "I went with my dad to this thing tonight, before I came over."

It hadn't been the kind of thing he wanted to bring up when he'd only had a short time to see Blaine, but now he felt like he should. Blaine just made interested noises.

"He wants me to talk to his men's group about being a man." He let out a little embarrassed laugh. "Like my dad was ever the kind of man he wants me to be now."

 _"Do you… want to give him another chance?"_ Blaine sounded both skeptical and hopeful, which sounded about right for how he felt about his own father.

"I don't know. Part of me thinks I should, that it's something he might be able to get right. Like, he's not perfect, but I can tell he's trying? Maybe that should count for something. And part of me is still expecting him to screw up tomorrow. But you know what? Fuck that, because maybe he's expecting the same from me, and he's still showing up. He _wants_ to show up, and he _is._ That's better than he did for fifteen years."

Blaine's answer was slow in coming. _"I wonder if trusting him is a better risk than how it would feel to get hurt again?"_

"It would suck," he said. He reached one hand out from under the covers and slid the window shut, muting the frogs. "No lie. But I can take it, whatever he can dish out. It's different now."

 _"Because you have Finn, and Kurt, and Adam."_

"And you," Puck added.

 _"You really do. I don't know how much help that is, though."_

"Are you shitting me?" he whispered. "Babe, you changed me from the day you met me. My whole life is different now."

Blaine made some very satisfying breathless noises. It wasn't so different from the way Kurt reacted when he was feeling strongly about something, but in Blaine's velvety voice it was like the thickest custard.

 _Eggs,_ Puck thought dreamily. _He's the eggs, and I'm the sugar. We're creme fucking brûlée._

 _"I thought, when my dad came to the hospital, after I got attacked freshman year, and I found out about Thomas, that he was gay too… I thought that might be a turning point for us. I thought it was going to be different, that somehow he'd understand me because we had this thing in common. But so far, nothing's changed."_ He sighed sadly. _"I just want to be good enough."_

"You _are_ good enough," said Puck, as firmly as he dared over the phone. "Whatever he can't see, that's his own shit."

It wasn't enough, Puck knew, but it was as far as they were going to get tonight. Blaine seemed to understand.

" _Thank you,"_ he said. " _For calling me. And for, uh. For earlier."_

"Anytime, babe. I'll see you Friday."

In the dark, in the strange silence of the new house, Puck missed the frogs, but he didn't open the window again. Between school and his dad and everything, Blaine was dealing with plenty of shit, but Puck felt comforted because so much of it was the same shit he was dealing with himself. That had been another thing the men at his dad's group had mentioned, he remembered. _You should be evenly matched, spiritually. Believers should marry other believers._ He appreciated that Blaine talked about their dreams with wonder, not skepticism. He'd never said _I believe in God_ to Blaine, but he thought Blaine would take that better than Kurt would. Not that there was any kind of a contest, but it made him feel comforted to think that other people might agree that he and Blaine might actually be good together.

He sighed. _If he were a girl. And if I wasn't spanking the crap out of him. Actually, that might qualify as an appropriate biblical relationship._

Just for good measure, Puck recited the mourner's Kaddish for his mother before he set his phone aside. It didn't make him feel any closer to her, but maybe it was one way he could prove to her he was still a good boy, even if he wasn't following her rules.

"Night, Ma," he added, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Finn paused at the door to the choir room when he heard Rachel inside talking to Mr. Schue, Tina and Mike. It didn't sound like a very positive conversation.

"I just love you guys so much," she was saying. "I was wrong before. I don't want any new members. I didn't want anyone coming in and-and messing up our group dynamic. Tina, Mike, I mean, what if Sunshine can dance? Then your contributions to Glee will be even more insignificant than they already are now. I did this for _you_ guys."

Mr. Schue was deadly serious. "Whatever your motivations, you need to make this right, Rachel."

Finn held in his sigh and waited for Rachel to appear in the hallway. Then he joined her, walking beside her. She saw him, and immediately her shoulders relaxed. She smiled.

"What was that all about?" he asked, trying to keep his tone mild.

"It's nothing," she said. When he gripped her arm, she didn't try to pull away, but instead stopped in the middle of the hallway. She didn't look righteous. She looked… guilty.

"Don't think about it," he said swiftly. "Just tell me. Right now."

"I —" Her eyes were enormous, staring up at him. She gulped. "I sent a new student who wanted to audition for Glee to the wrong place."

"Because you wanted her to go away?"

"I didn't want things to change! I like it… the way it is."

He could see her reassembling her bravado, but Finn already understood. He fixed her with his eyes, just the way he would have with any of his boys.

"Rachel, you're not going to do this to people who want to join Glee. We need them. You totally need to hear Sam, the new sophomore. He's got a great voice, and he can play guitar, and he has a sense of humor." Sam's deadpan joke about balls in his mouth had been awesome. " _And_ he's a threat to me, in football and in Glee. But I can't think about that. It's not about me, or you, or any of us. It's about the team. We have to trust one another."

Rachel did the deer-in-headlights look almost as well as Kurt did. "I —"

"Are you going to fix it?" he asked. She nodded. "All right." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then patted her shoulder. He wasn't about to give her a pat on the butt; Finn was pretty sure she would have punched him in the face if he'd done something like that. Then he walked away without waiting for her to join him.

* * *

Both Burt and his mom laughed at Finn's relating of Sam's balls-in-the-mouth joke, too. Kurt looked completely delighted by the idea of inviting Sam to join Glee.

"I saw him," Kurt said to Carole, "and he is _definitely_ playing for our team. Nobody who bleaches their hair is on Team Straight."

She stacked the dinner dishes and passed them down to Puck, smiling. "I don't know if you can make a judgment like that based on what somebody looks like, Kurt."

"Anyway," Finn went on, as his mother and Sarah cleared the table, "he's got a killer voice. You're way better than he is at impersonations, though, Kurt. I think he'd be great. But we have this situation with Rachel. Did you hear how she sent some girl to the wrong place to audition?"

"She's threatened," said Kurt.

"No, she's threatened because of _Blaine,"_ he said.

Kurt put a hand to his mouth with a sigh. "Oh. You told her."

"Yeah. And I don't know what I can do about that other than let her decide if she can handle it."

Kurt mused on this as he finished his last bites of pasta. "Well, maybe you can at least give her something to boost her self-esteem. She wants to know you think her ideas are worth listening to, even when other people dismiss her."

"I don't know if that matters," Finn said. "I'm not exactly popular anymore. I'm not quarterback. I might not even be on the team. Coach Beiste is doing her best to make sure everybody knows I'm _not_ her favorite."

"Even if you are."

"Whatever. Maybe… can you cut me down when I make a suggestion in Glee?"

Kurt tapped his chin. "How about, _'You're not the Pied Piper anymore. Nobody's going to follow you around thinking everything you do is cool.'"_

Finn made a face. "Harsh."

"But effective," said Kurt. He took Finn's hand. "If you're on Rachel's side, you're going to have to assume nobody else is going to be on _your_ side."

He sighed. "Okay. I'll take one for the team. I really didn't anticipate cleaning up _Rachel's_ messes."

Kurt's grin was wicked. "She could use a good spanking."

"Kurt!" Finn yelped, over Kurt's laughter. "She did _not_ ask me for that."

"Well, if you recall, neither did I." He leaned over and rested his cheek on Finn's shoulder. "But you took the initiative, and after I got over myself, I was so grateful for it."

"Yeah, I don't think she would think of it that way. She'd say I was pressing her."

"Oppressing?" Kurt guessed. Finn nodded. "Well, if you made it clear it was her choice to consent, or not, it wouldn't be. It's not like you're making it a condition of your friendship. Relationship. Whatever." Kurt flapped his hands. "Forget it. This is sounding like a worse and worse idea the more I think about it."

Finn found Puck and Sarah standing at the sink. Puck was quizzing Sarah on her Spanish vocabulary, reading from a list taped to the window, while he rinsed the dishes.

"You really don't have to rinse them," his mom said. "The dishwasher is supposed to be good enough on its own."

"I know," said Puck. "It just feels better to do it first."

She looked like she might object further, but Finn tugged on her arm, drawing her back into the dining room.

"It's his routine, mom," he said quietly.

She frowned. "But it's silly. The dishwasher does it better and faster. He doesn't have to wash them by hand anymore."

"No, I know. It's not about what's better or faster. He's got to have time to figure out what works, for himself."

"You ready, Finn?" Kurt called from the family room.

"We're going to plan date night," he told his mom.

"Finn, I just wanted to tell you…" She did a gentler, mom-version of that make-sure-you're-looking-at-me thing. "What you said earlier this week about me, going down to Irene's. It's not what you think."

He squirmed a little. "It's your business, mom."

"I've been helping her with her business. She needed my assistance because she's expanding the coffee shop, and she wanted somebody up here to be her liaison with the bank. She's taking over an existing location in Lima."

That made him pause. "Oh. Another Java the Hut?"

"Irene's considering keeping the old name, the Lima Bean. Finn, I'm not judging how you live your life, but that's not how I work. I'm not looking for anything from Irene other than friendship. All right?"

He nodded, feeling a little abashed. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"I appreciate that. I didn't want you to draw the wrong conclusions." She smiled. "Have a good time planning date night. Don't forget your homework."


	5. Auditions Part 3

Will was pulling out of the parking lot when Toby's ringtone sounded on his phone. He put the phone to his ear. "Can I call you back when I get home?"

 _"This'll just take a moment, darlin',"_ said Toby. He sounded sour, like he was describing a hate crime. Will paused, then pulled over to the side, turning off the car.

"Okay?"

 _"Will, tell me you had nothin' to do with the shit Sue Sylvester pulled on Holly's roommate."_

"I —" He sighed, resting his head on his hand. "It was a bad idea."

 _"You think? Holly told me Shannon said you wouldn't let her sit with you at lunch. And the pizzas? What are you, fifteen?"_

"This was about money, Toby," Will said. "It wasn't about popularity. This school already spends too much on their football team. Glee can't take a ten percent cut in their budget. Not that _you'd_ know anything about that. You have enough money _and_ kids begging to be part of Vocal Adrenaline."

 _"This ain't about how things are at Carmel, Will. This is about your school hiring a new PE teacher. You can't stop the school from doin' football."_

"No."

 _"And you want your principal to go looking for a different replacement? How likely is it he's going to find a better role model for the kids than Shannon Beiste? Did you know she's national board certified? She was vice-president of her union at her last school."_

"Okay, okay!" he cried. "I already said it was a bad idea."

 _"It was worse than that. It was mean. You ain't that person, Will."_

He closed his eyes. "No. I don't want to be."

 _"If that's the kind of spirit you're puttin' forth for your club, you folks better get used to losin'. In the meantime, I'll be takin' the evening off. Call me when you've figured things out with Shannon."_

Will let out an explosive sigh, tipping his head back to stare at the ripped ceiling of his old station wagon. If this week had been an audition, he would already have known he'd blown it. _Thank god real life offers second chances — and so does Toby. Let's hope Shannon does, too._

* * *

Kurt was the one who told Finn about Sunshine being recruited by Vocal Adrenaline. He went to talk first to Tina and Mike, then tracked Rachel down.

When he confronted her about it, Rachel just quailed under Finn's disappointed glare. He didn't even feel bad about it, because she totally deserved it.

"What did they say?" she asked.

"Well, I talked 'em out of giving you a code red," he said. "They were pissed, and they had the right to be. What you did was bad, Rachel. We could have used Sunshine to beat Vocal Adrenaline, and now they're just that much stronger. Toby and that new director, they're going to crush us."

She braced herself. "Just do it already."

He paused. "What?"

"Discipline me."

Finn choked, snatching his hands away. " _What?"_

"We both knew it was just a matter of time." She tipped her eyes up at him. He stared down at her, at a complete loss for what to say. She was just waiting — waiting for him to take the lead. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"I think you're forgetting I'm already… taking care of three other people. You told me you weren't going to — that we couldn't do anything like that, as long as I was seeing them."

"I thought you said it wasn't like that. That it wasn't sexual."

Finn could tell she wasn't _trying_ to seduce him, but her honest vulnerability and trust in him was having an effect. He felt a little dizzy. "It — doesn't have to be. But for me, it… it is. That's not why I do it, but… that's how it feels, afterward."

She furrowed her brow. "Do you mean that you punish them and then you want to kiss them?"

"Something like that," he said weakly.

Rachel moved into his space and kissed him passionately. He kissed her right back. It had been a long time since he'd been turned on by her, by any girl, but he could feel the way what she was saying was resonating inside. It was like the way it had been at the beginning, when he was getting to know her and finding out about all the cool things about her. She was being brave, trying something new without any assurance it would work, just because she trusted him. That was — _hot._

"I did it for the team, you know," she said. "I just, I-I love everybody so much, I didn't want anyone else coming in and interfering."

He sighed. "You gotta stop saying that, Rachel. I care about you and everything, but you gotta admit the truth. You didn't do this because you love Glee Club. You did it because you love yourself more."

She was shrinking again under his accusations. "Okay! I didn't want anyone else hogging my spotlight, okay? I love it too much to let it go that easy."

"You don't have to," he said. "You get to be a star. You just can't tear people down to get there — at least not _these_ people. This is, like, our family. We have to have their back as much as they have ours."

She looked at her feet. "Do you think that they'll ever forgive me?"

"They'll come around. I think apologizing would be a good start."

"I'm sorry," she said. He reached down and tipped her chin up. She let out a little gasp.

"I meant to them," he said, smiling, "but thank you." He thought about adding _good girl,_ but it made him a little uncomfortable even in his thoughts. She was already looking like she might want to jump him right there in the hallway.

He kissed her once more, gently. Then she let go of his hand and stepped away.

"Where are you going?"

"The auditorium. I, um." She brushed her hair behind her ear. "I just need a little time to myself. To think about this."

Finn watched her go and thought about Puck and Blaine, how he was able to help them let go of their guilt when things had gone wrong. Rachel was more like Kurt. She held her guilt close to her chest.

He sighed. _I'm not going to think about her chest._

* * *

"I'm going to convince Mr. Schue to let us do Britney Spears," Kurt announced, sitting back from his dad's computer with triumph. "Once this Facebook campaign catches on, the pressure will be immense. You'll vote for it, right, Finn?"

"Mmm." He didn't look away from the front window. After a moment, he felt Kurt's hand on his arm.

"He'll be here soon."

"I don't know how you can be so calm," Finn complained. Kurt just smiled.

"I think you taught me how to do that. Or maybe it's the flogging you gave me on Tuesday. I'm just as excited to see Blaine as you are, Finn."

"I know that. I guess I'm distracted. I'm thinking about what happened with Rachel today."

Kurt's smile gave way to giggles. They were pale by comparison to the hysterical laughter he'd produced earlier when Finn had told him what Rachel had asked for.

"I just can't stop imagining the look on her face the first time you spank her," he snickered. Finn rolled his eyes as Kurt produced an example of that face.

"Kurt, you can't be making fun of Rachel. Especially if she and I — if I'm going to —" He took a deep breath. "If I _am_ going to discipline her, and that is a _big_ if, you have to take it seriously. You have to take _her_ seriously." He reached out and took Kurt's hand, interrupting his hilarity. "Kurt, I'm telling you. She doesn't need anybody else laughing at her."

"I'm not," Kurt began, still giggling, but he stopped himself and nodded. "Okay, Finn. I can do that. I think."

"Baby," Finn warned, and Kurt tamed his smile again. He made an X over his heart and nodded angelically.

"It's just that Rachel is hard to take seriously sometimes," Kurt said. "She's so melodramatic. She says things with such _conviction."_

Finn grinned. "Sounds like somebody else I know."

He kissed Kurt's nose, leaving him looking disgruntled and pleased at the same time. Finn was sure Kurt would have argued with him more if they hadn't heard the garage door open. At that sound, both of them leapt up, heading for the back door.

When Puck opened it, Blaine shot past him and right into Finn's arms.

"Oh," Blaine murmured, burrowing his forehead into the crook of Finn's shoulder. "I — I missed you."

"Yeah," Finn whispered back.

He kissed Blaine's head again and again while Puck stood in the door, holding the baby carrier and beaming at them. Kurt took Puck's hand and helped him bring Beth inside.

"I'm gonna take her upstairs and feed her before bed," Puck said. "I'll meet you guys in your room with the baby monitor when I'm done."

"Do you need anything, Blaine?" Kurt asked.

Blaine surfaced from Finn's embrace, then shifted over to hug Kurt. "No," Blaine said, his voice quavering. "I have everything I need."

Kurt clasped Blaine's hand in his. "Then let's go upstairs."

* * *

"You know," Blaine said, much later, after they were all comfortably prone on Kurt's king-sized bed, "there is something I want."

"Again?" Puck rumbled, making him laugh. Blaine rested a hand on Puck's thigh.

"Maybe tomorrow morning," he said. "But, no, I'm talking about making music. I miss making music with all of you. Can we do that tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Kurt said. "Will you sing the Katy Perry song?"

"It won't sound the same without the Warblers, Kurt. We can sing other things." He looked up at Finn, sitting with his arm around him. "Do you think… maybe, we might ever sing with Carl again?"

Finn nodded thoughtfully. "He said he would like that, and I believe him. We can call him tomorrow and find out. Oh, hey, guess what? My mom said Irene's opening a new coffeehouse in Lima! Maybe we could perform there."

" _The Lima Bean,"_ Kurt said. "It's not as silly as Java the Hut, but I like it."

"That's great!" Blaine was smiling at Finn like he held all the secrets to the universe. "But you and Carl, that's still, uh, on hold?"

"I don't even know anymore." Finn didn't seem too upset by the admission, but Kurt would have attributed that to Blaine. There was definitely something magical about Blaine's presence that calmed Finn down entirely. "I think there's the possibility we can figure something out, but it would have to be in Columbus only. Or another city, maybe. If I wait until college, it'll be easier. I mean, I'll be eighteen this January, but I don't know if that even counts for anything."

They had all started to yawn. Puck headed back to check on Beth while Finn gathered Blaine up and took him next door to Finn's room.

"Just come get in bed with me after they leave for football practice tomorrow," Kurt told Blaine. "You can wake me up if you want to."

"I think I might just crawl in and go back to sleep." Blaine kissed him, long and slow, which was always hotter with Puck and Finn watching, then smiled and said, "Good night, Kurt," in his formal way.

"Night, Blaine."

As Blaine shut the door, Kurt sat down to do his moisturizing, an hour later than usual. He also sent a text to Adam. _Oklahoma tonight, Missouri tomorrow. Are you looking forward to New Orleans on Sunday?_

 _Oh, god, so much,_ Adam replied immediately. _Though I'd rather be stopping to see you._

 _Soon,_ said Kurt. Between Florida and Washington was Adam's day off, and he was flying into the tiny Lima airport to spend the day with them. _Less than two weeks now._

 _I can't wait, honey._

Kurt felt the tiny explosion of joy he always experienced when he remembered, as he did a few times every day, that Adam loved him. _In the meantime, I'm immersed in the drama of high school again, and you're sleeping in a different hotel room every night._

 _Trust me, musician drama and high school drama aren't so different. Someday I'd like to find a band to play with where all the people actually like and respect one another._

 _Are you using the moisturizer I sent you?_

 _And the eye makeup remover. You were right, my skin is a lot better._

Kurt smiled. _I'm not going to tell you how pleased that makes me._

 _I won't put you in that position, Kurt. Just give Noah a kiss for me._

He hadn't set his phone down for more than five minutes before it buzzed again with a text. This time it was from Dave.

 _What the hell is going on with Finn and Rachel Berry?_

Kurt had to mentally sit on himself to control his giggling. Finn and Noah and Blaine were just on the other side of the wall, after all. _I will never expose his secrets, no matter how absurd they may be._

 _I never thought I would care this much about what Finn Hudson was doing with a girl._ There was a pause, and then, _Just tell me Blaine's OK with it._

 _He hasn't said anything at all about it. I don't think it would occur to him to complain about any of Finn's relationships._

 _If Finn starts ignoring him in favor of that — any — chick, I'm gonna kick his ass, I'm not kidding._

Kurt had to admit he liked Protector Dave a whole lot more than Hamhock Dave. _I have been instructed not to laugh at her. Maybe I can modify that instruction to be "not in front of Finn." Would you judge me if I complained at you about Rachel sometimes? This is hypothetical._

 _Fuck knows I complain to you enough about most stuff._

 _I kind of like it. You give me permission to be snarky. Was this a bad day?_

 _Not an awful one,_ Dave said. _On the bad-day-o-meter, I'd say it was about a seven._

 _Any good things?_

Dave didn't respond for a while. Kurt used the ebb in their conversation to finish wiping his face and setting out his clothes for tomorrow — the pink checked shirt he'd stolen from Blaine's closet with the olive scarf he'd found at the thrift store on the last shopping trip with Sarah and Frances — and checked the Britney Spears Facebook campaign page one more time before he got more words from Dave.

 _Only really nerdy things._

 _You say that like it's a problem?_

 _Well, I don't know. You hang out with all the music kids and your boyfriends are jocks._

 _Dave,_ Kurt typed slowly, _I might laugh at Rachel, but I won't laugh at you._

Sometimes it was easy to forget, in the midst of their frequent jabs and _ripostes,_ how sensitive Dave really was. Kurt definitely didn't think of him as the boy who'd shoved him into a locker in January, not anymore.

 _I learned the Feynman technique for understanding a concept,_ Dave said. _And that calculus means "small stone" because it's about understanding something by looking at little pieces of it. And I started my PSAT study group._

Kurt wasn't sure for a moment what Dave meant by the last one until Dave added, _You could come, if you wanted._

 _You're leading a PSAT study group?_

 _I'm kind of getting paid to do it. My tutoring organization hired me._

 _Ah, so it wouldn't look like I was studying with you because I thought it was fun._ Kurt shook his head, smiling. _Thank you, I'd love that. Maybe Finn could come too?_

 _Do I get to publicly humiliate him every time he doesn't know a vocabulary word?_

 _Gently,_ said Kurt. _He would probably tolerate that, though._

 _Want to come to the observatory next weekend?_

 _I can't,_ Kurt said. He felt a pang of real regret. Dave so seldom invited him to do anything, he hated to turn him down. _It's date night. Noah and I are going dancing in Dayton._

 _Another Friday, no big. Study group starts Thursday at seven. The tutoring organization rents a storefront south of North and Main._

The location made Kurt's heart stand still for a moment, because that was exactly where Davis and Carl had their office. He wasn't about to mention it to Dave, but he could only hope they weren't renting in the same building. _Thanks,_ he just said. _I'll look forward to it._

Kurt turned out the light and set his phone on the nightstand. He put a hand on the wall between his room and Finn's, and smiled. It was definitely better when he knew he could just walk into the other room to kiss Blaine whenever he wanted. Knowing Blaine was tucked in between Finn and Puck was almost as good as having him in his own bed.

* * *

Will nudged Toby's leg with his shoulder. "Are you actually falling asleep while I'm doing this?"

"Mmmm." Toby lifted his head from the pillow and smiled lazily down at Will. "Maybe. But don't take it as a slight against your technique, darlin'. September just kicks my ass. I'm exhausted."

Will chuckled. He climbed up to rest beside Toby, two heads sharing the same pillow. "This isn't a retroactive punishment for my stupidness earlier this week?"

"I told you, you made up for that. Holly said Shannon was impressed by your apology." Toby intertwined their fingers, regarding them placidly. "You're good at the make-up stuff."

"It's the least I can do." He shook his head. "After the way Rachel treated Sunshine, you deserve to have her at Carmel."

"It's not about what _we_ deserve. It's about what _she_ deserves. She's not much of a dancer, but Dustin will absolutely put her center stage. Hell of a voice."

Will stretched full length, then relaxed, staring up at the ceiling. "All this she-said-she-said gossip, though… I'm not crazy about that. You don't have to tell me what Holly says Shannon says. She can tell me herself." He poked Toby in the ribs. "And since when are you and Holly so tight?"

Toby shrugged. "I like her. And she's got a way with her kids, I do say. Watchin' Jake Puckerman during our dance lessons, I can tell he's managing his anger better, communicating better. If she's half as good a teacher as she is a counselor, she's gonna take the high school world by storm."

"She did a great job with Finn, that's for sure. He made big strides this summer in Spanish."

"Did you know she can sing? She was telling me about her voice coaching lessons, learning how to make her voice sound the way she wanted it to sound."

Will grinned at him. "Isn't there something better to talk about when we're naked in bed than our friends and students?"

"I'm sure I can think of something," Toby drawled. He gave Will a slow kiss, watching his face. "Do you miss him?"

Will dropped his eyes. Toby knew he didn't have to clarify who he meant. Darius had been on both their minds since he left in August.

"Yeah," Will admitted. "I do. He called me after work today, just to check in. I didn't expect that."

"Yeah, he called me a couple days ago."

Will's smile was a little twisted. "Made it harder and easier at the same time."

"What, you figured we wouldn't hear from him again? Maybe if it hadn't been about feelings. I don't think feelings go away for him either."

Toby watched Will's cheeks go a little red. "Maybe now he feels like can have something to hang on to."

Toby nodded. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah, I think so? Being a — a way station for him. You know? If he's on the road and he needs someplace to visit, I don't mind that place being us."

He raised a placid eyebrow. "You just want him to suck your dick again."

Will gave his shoulder a shove. "You just want to watch."


	6. One Year 1994

One Year Old: 1994

Noah could say "mama," "dada" and "'tar" by the time his first birthday rolled around. Instead of Timothy, he said "Meemee."

"Like Beaker on the Muppet show," insisted Timmy, who was four.

Noah would follow Timmy around the house, just steps from full-fledged walking, holding on to furniture with his oversized hands and calling "Meemee! Meemee!" until Timmy would stop and pay attention to him.

"He's so annoying," Timmy said often, but usually with tolerance and occasionally affection. And it was just as often that Timmy would find a quiet place to sit with Noah on his lap or next to him, "reading" him a book or showing him a pill bug he'd found on the ground or a snake. Noah would watch with wide eyes and attempt to hug whatever it was, then put it into his mouth.

"Meemee," said Noah, holding onto the banister by the front door.

"Timmy's frosting your cupcakes," said Ruth, closing the dishwasher with one hip and kicking blocks back into the family room.

"They're blue, see?" said Timmy, holding up the Cookie Monster-hued frosting spoon. Noah moved a few steps closer and screeched his approval. Timmy finished blobbing blue frosting on the top of six chocolate cupcakes and climbed down from his chair to stand beside Noah, handing him the spoon. In obvious delight, Noah took it, waving it madly a few times before Ruth rescued it from his chubby grip.

The front door crashed open loud enough to make Noah and Timmy jump. The figure in the doorway wore a furry blue mask and a black leather motorcycle jacket.

"Is it time?" said the man under the mask.

"Subtle, baby," Ruth said, rolling her eyes.

Timmy squinted up at the fuzzy-clad face. "That's Daddy under there," he said suspiciously. "It's not really Cookie Monster, is it?"

Noah obviously hadn't reached the same conclusion. He stared in rapt fascination. "Dah," he said.

"It's Cookie Monster, sweetheart," Ruth said. She watched carefully as Aaron got down on the floor but his movements were steady and he didn't seem overly manic today.

Noah stumbled forward and planted a wet, sticky hand on the blue fur. "Kitty."

"Ma, he said kitty," shouted Timothy.

"I'm Cookie Monster," Aaron said in a low, gravely voice. He really did sound like him.

"Kitty?" Noah said again, more uncertainly.

"I like cookies. Cooooookies."

Timmy giggled. "What about cupcakes? We don't have any cookies."

"They're round like cookies, but they're not as good," Aaron decided. "You can eat mine. Come on, boys. Cookie Monster's gonna sing you a song. You know any songs about cookies?"

While Aaron tuned his guitar, Timothy filled him in on the fact that C is for Cookie. They sang it three times, once in the Cookie Monster voice, once in a funny squeaky voice and once in a robot voice. By the time they got to the third one, Noah was dancing along, holding onto the arm of the chair and Timmy's hand and his father's pants as he bobbed up and down on his chunky legs.

Ruth smiled, watching her three boys playing, and wished there was something she could do to make every day like this.


	7. BritneyBrittany Part 1

_(Author's note: Warnings for lots of well-intentioned emotional manipulation and Puck's crisis of faith. Quoting in the next four chapters from 2x02 Britney/Brittany, with many minor adjustments. It's fun to watch the episode and see all the overlap. -amy)_

* * *

Episode 2x02: Britney/Brittany

For the past couple of years, Sarah had been going once a month to have dinner with her father. Her Ma would put her on the bus in Lima and she'd meet her dad at the bus station in Akron, and he'd let her pick the restaurant, and afterward she'd get back on the bus and come home. Noah had never gone with her, because he hadn't been speaking to his dad at that point, but Timmy did sometimes when he was in town. She could tell her dad was making an effort to be a dad, even if it wasn't much of one. That was about all she expected from him, so it didn't feel disappointing when he screwed up.

One time, her dad brought Jake with him. He didn't warn her in advance; he just showed up at the bus station with a sullen kid about her age and said, _Hey, Sarah, this is your half-brother Jake._ And Jake had just said, _I don't care,_ and Sarah had laughed and told him he was like that boy Pierre from the Really Rosie musical. Jake had looked perplexed, but Sarah found the a staging of the Carole King production on YouTube and played it for him. He'd been fascinated by the performance. He'd told her that he was a dancer, but he'd never seen a live stage performance, not like that. She asked him if would like to, and he made a face and he said _that stuff is for pussies._ She shot back, _what, you mean like our dad?_ He'd laughed hard, and after that, they were friends.

This would be the first time Sarah had seen Jake since she'd told Noah that their dad had another kid. She didn't see any reason not to just come clean about this. When Jake showed up at the bus station, she gave him a little wave and said, "Noah knows about you."

"Oh." Jake thought about this for two seconds and then shrugged. "Okay?"

"You want to meet him?"

"Does he want to meet me?"

She shrugged back. She'd only mentioned Jake that once to Noah, and it hadn't gone over very well. "He doesn't ask for things."

"Noah doesn't always know what he needs," her dad said. He nudged Jake with his knuckles. "But I'll tell you what… I have some plans for Noah. Once those are settled, I think you'll like him better. He'll be more the kind of man you need in your life. A real older brother. How's that sound?"

"Good?" said Jake.

Sarah thought this didn't sound so good. Whatever plans her dad had, for anything, they were bound to be outrageously stupid. On the other hand, she also knew he'd had plenty of plans that had never gone anywhere, so what he was saying didn't worry her all that much. She didn't much like the way he was judging Noah, though, or the way he was trying to get Jake on his side.

When her dad went to the bathroom, she faced Jake. "Noah has three boyfriends."

He scowled at her over his sandwich. "So?"

"I just wanted you to know. We live with two of them."

Jake gave her a look. "What are you trying to do? I'm not homophobic. He can have as many boyfriends as he wants." He ate a fry, then added, "You guys _live_ with two of them?"

"Finn and Kurt's parents met because of them and they fell in love. When Ma died, Ta- Kurt's dad decided to adopt me and Noah, so we wouldn't not have a home. And you say homophobic things all the time."

"I do not!" Jake insisted. "Well… maybe when I was a kid, but I know better now. _Toby's_ my teacher, right? And I've got gay friends. And - yeah. People can change."

That was true. She thought about how Finn told her about the way they used to treat Kurt, before, and the way Noah had thrown other kids in dumpsters even after. He didn't do that anymore. And the way her dad used to treat Timmy when he was a teenager. His dad didn't talk to any of his kids like that either.

"I think people have to make reparations for the sucky things they did before," she said. "Or else they can't really claim they've changed."

"Well, I'm sorry I ever called anybody a fag," he grumbled. Then he looked up from his food and stared in the direction of the bathroom. "Oh. You mean —?"

"Dad. He's doing something. I can't tell if it's reparations or if it's just… more awful stuff."

Jake nodded slowly. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see?"

Sarah hated waiting for anything, but she didn't exactly have an alternative. "I think we should talk more, you and me."

They exchanged cell numbers and email addresses. "I'm in Lima every two weeks," he said. "For, uh. My therapist lives there now." He looked a little embarrassed to be admitting this, but Sarah nodded.

"You could come over?" she said. "You could see the house I made."

"You didn't _make_ a house," Jake said.

She grinned. "Oh, yeah. I really did."

* * *

"All right," said Ethan. He set down his copy of the New Testament book and looked around the circle of men sitting with him. "What did you learn from that reading in Ephesians about what Paul says about being a good husband?"

"It doesn't say much," Kyle pointed out. "All that old language, it doesn't seem like it applies much to us."

"I think the love they're talking about applies whether you're talking about friendships or marriages, though," said Andrew. "How to love the way God intended. Selfless, giving love, without expecting anything back. That's what we're supposed to be going for, right?"

Puck turned the book over on his knees. His dad put a hand on his shoulder. "What did you think, Noah?"

It was hard to concentrate on reading under the best of circumstances. In this basement church room, without Kurt there to help him focus, he hadn't gotten much out of the tiny little print in the book. But his dad was sitting there, watching him, and Puck didn't want him to think he didn't care, because he actually did.

"I guess I don't like all these guys trying to speak for God," he said. "If everybody says what they think, somebody's going to get it wrong, and then people who read it will be confused about how to be a good boyfriend. Husband." He shrugged. "I guess I can't really be that."

"Why not, Noah?" asked Ethan.

"Well, guys can't get married to other guys." He wasn't going to get into detail about _how many_ guys were involved in the picture.

Ethan gave him a smile. It wasn't a mean smile, or even a _you're-stupid_ smile, but it wasn't a _I'm-listening_ smile either. "Noah, you're not gay."

"No, I know, I'm not. It's not about that."

He shook his head gently. "You're not the first boy to confuse the powerful love between two men with the love we feel for our wives. I'm here to let you know it's okay to make that mistake. Sin will separate you from God. But as you develop your understanding of God, you're going to start to realize what He really wants for you."

"That's what I tried to tell him," his dad said. "He's just confused."

"No, I'm not," said Puck. "How can what I'm feeling be a mistake?"

"Because it's not about feelings," Ethan said. His voice was placid and certain. It could have been irritating, but Puck found himself listening anyway. "It's about making a commitment, in your heart, to doing right by God. Following the commandments isn't always easy, but we do it because it's the right thing. To love this way, in service to others… it's the greatest fulfillment on earth."

 _Service to others._ That, he could agree with. Puck nodded vigorously. "It really is."

"So hang onto that understanding as you move forward, Noah. Don't mistake sex for love."

He sat contemplating his relationships with Blaine and Kurt and Finn and Adam for the rest of the evening, while the rest of them talked about First Corinthians. In some ways, what he did was all about giving without expecting something in return, which was what Ethan was saying was important. But he did a lot of _taking,_ too, didn't he? Finn and Kurt, they took care of him, and that didn't seem very much like what all those historical dudes did, or what Ethan said people expected Godly men to do. They did have a lot of wives, though, which made him feel a little better.

On the way out, Ethan came over to shake his dad's hand, and then his hand.

"You looked deep in thought there, Noah," he said. "Did you come to any conclusions?"

"I guess I'll keep looking for ways I can be a better man," he said. "I thought I was getting there."

"Your dad tells me you have a daughter?"

Puck smiled. "Yeah, her name's Beth. She's awesome."

Ethan nodded. "So, you might think about what kind of man you want to be for her. What does a father look like in the Bible? How can you use that to help you follow the path set down for you by God?"

Puck wasn't sure what that had to do with being a good boyfriend, but he said he'd think about it.

His dad gave him a little shoulder-hug as they walked out to their cars.

"I'm really glad you decided to come back to group with me," said his dad. "I think it's going to be good for you."

"Maybe," said Puck. "I'm giving it a shot, anyway?"

"That's all I can ask for." He paused beside his door, keys in his hand. "Hey, what would you think about going away for a weekend? Just me and you. The J4J folks are hosting an adventure camp out west somewhere. They say it's a blast. Hiking, orienteering, that sort of thing."

"I might be up for that." He almost added, _I'll have to ask Mr. Hummel,_ but his dad looked so happy he didn't want to ruin the moment. "Sure, yeah."

"Great! I'll get it all set up. You have a safe drive home, now. I love you, son."

"Love you too, dad," he said stiffly. It wasn't easy to say, but with all this talking about the right kind of love, he felt like he should give his dad something, without taking away from him.

When Puck got into the Impala and checked his phone, there was a text from Adam.

 _Thinking of you on my way to the stage,_ it said. _Are you being a good boy?_

He swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat. "I'm trying," he whispered.

* * *

Carl stuck the _Visitor_ sticker on his shirt and signed in at the front office. He reminded himself for the third time that he had every right to visit his girlfriend at work, just like every other couple he knew. He could certainly be professional about being there in the same building with Rachel and Finn at the same time. All the same, he checked the hallway carefully before proceeding down to Emma's office.

He could see her through the window, talking animatedly to a curly-haired man seated in front of her. Carl decided that had to be Will. Finn had already told him so much about his choir director that the dearth of information from Emma hadn't mattered.

"… he made me buy the green grapes and the red grapes at the market," she was telling the man, "and then we just mixed them together in a bowl and we just… ate them. It was madness. Sheer madness."

"Wow," said the man, with heavy sarcasm.

Carl tamped down a surge of protectiveness. Emma had been making great progress, and he was proud of her. He didn't like the idea of anybody belittling her accomplishments, especially because she'd been so brave about asking for what she needed.

"Laugh all you want," Emma said primly. When she realized he was standing in the door, she gave a little jump, her eyes wide.

"Hey, now," he said easily, closing the door behind himself. "Am I interrupting?"

"Carl, no." She quickly rearranged two things on her desk and took a calming breath. "Hi. What — what are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd surprise you and take you to lunch." He came over and gave her a quick kiss. "Oh, I do love that look of instant panic every time I try to change your routine." He fixed on a bright smile as he turned to the man in the chair. "And you must be Will. Emma told me you're the cutest guy in school. Will, you grind your teeth?"

"I don't think so," Will said, looking confused.

Carl could see the panic escalating in Emma's actions, the way her hands were clasped in her lap. When he made eye contact with her, raising both eyebrows in a silent question, she gave him one desperate shake of the head. He was going to need to change his strategy.

With an unobtrusive motion, he made his phone buzz.

"Damn it," he said, peering at the screen.

"What? What's wrong?" Emma said quickly.

"Another teenager needs a root canal," he improvised. "I swear, not one student in this school is going to have their teeth by the time they're 30. Oh, the sugar kids eat today."

Emma babbled something to Will about a seminar on dental hygiene while Carl monitored her stress level, watching it ebb somewhat. She wasn't in imminent danger of an anxiety attack anymore. But now Will was talking to him. He drew his focus back to Will's face.

"Why don't you come talk to Glee Club?" he was saying.

Carl paused. It took him a moment to realize Will meant he should talk to the glee club, not as a musician — certainly not as a parent — but as a dentist. He glanced at Emma, who looked stunned.

 _Glee club,_ he tried to say with his eyes, _with Rachel… and Finn?_

"Well, that would be a dream, Will," he found himself saying. Emma's eyes widened.

"Uh, Will, that would be… amazing," she said weakly.

Will clearly thought he was being generous. "I'm usually pretty tight about our rehearsal schedule, but I think I can loosen the reins a bit for Carl."

They joked about stupid things until Will finally left. Carl moved immediately over to stand beside Emma, placing a heavy hand on the back of her neck and holding her wrist with the other.

"I'm just taking your pulse," he murmured. She shifted from foot to foot.

"Everyone can see everything in here," she replied. "We can't —"

"No, no. I won't do anything for you. I didn't intend to cause conflict between you and your colleagues."

"It's fine," she said quickly, "no, you can — I'm fine. Sir."

He considered her with a steady expression until she settled under his hand.

"I'm not quite sure what I just agreed to," he said. "I'm going to speak with Glee club about… dental hygiene?"

She glanced at her feet. "I don't know what I was saying, I just panicked."

He nodded. "Well, I suppose I'll come up with something. I could tell Will was trying to make things easier for you. Everything's okay with him?"

"Oh, yes, we're — yes." At his murmured command, she looked up at him. "Sir. He's having trouble with his fiancé. Kind of all the time, but I don't think it's serious."

"All right. You can make the appointment with Mark for me to come to speak with the glee club, and I'll be there. I can play the easy-going boyfriend." He gave her his most dazzling fake smile, the one that would have gotten him swatted if Tess had been there. Emma just smiled back, actually seeming to be dazzled. He wondered if she could tell the difference at all.

"Do you have anything more from me, sir?" she asked softly.

He felt a genuine rush of love for her, and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "Not until tonight," he said. "I'll see you for dinner."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," said Kurt, holding up the ripped jacket to inspect it in the light from the attic window. "Artie made the football team?"

"Coach said he did." Finn was fluttering around him like an expectant father. "I mean, first she pretended she thought I was making fun of her and cut me from the team, but then she fixed that, and now I guess she's trying to look like she changed her mind. Or maybe she really did change her mind, I don't know. So do you think you can fix it?"

"Dave _ripped_ this in half?" Kurt said for the third time. "With his own hands? For crying out loud. That boy has more drama in his forearm than me and Rachel put together."

"Kurt," Finn said again, with a note of pleading.

"I'll try, all right? I mean, there'll be a seam, but I think I can make it look like there should be one there. I just can't promise it'll be exactly like it was."

Finn sat heavily in the chair by the window and blew out a breath. "Yeah. I guess you can't, really. Not when it's torn up like that."

Kurt slipped a finger inside the lining and inspected the edges. "You know what the word is for when you tear holes in a piece of cloth? It's _rend._ Past tense, _rent."_ He smiled a little at his own wordplay. Finn still looked too distraught to care. Kurt tut-tutted at him. "Come on, it's just a jacket."

"Yeah, but I earned it," he said heavily. "I don't know if I'll ever get another one, especially considering Azimio's making me his own personal punching bag. He spends all his time trying to get me to admit I'm bisexual. I wonder what he would do if I told him he was right." He shrugged. "You think he'd give up and leave me alone?"

"Bisexual?"

Kurt didn't mean to include that quaver in his voice, but it was there nonetheless. Finn looked up right away. He held out a hand, and Kurt came over and took it, sitting on his knee.

"Kurt-sexual," he said, and smiled as he kissed Kurt's neck above his scarf. Kurt let out a sound that was half laugh, half moan.

"I'm not trying to get you to label yourself any particular way, Finn," he said. "It's just the first time I've heard you say it about yourself."

"Yeah, well. It's not exactly right, but I guess _gay_ isn't either. I mean, I'm not gay like you and Blaine are. And I still like boobs."

Kurt shuddered. "Don't remind me."

Finn's phone vibrated in his pocket. He dug it out and looked at the screen, showing it to Kurt. "Dave?"

 _I'll have to thank Artie for providing me with an out during that dust-up today,_ Dave said in his text. _He let me exit gracefully without hitting you back. I'm really, really sorry about your jacket. You can have mine, if you want._

Finn huffed in surprise, smiling a little. "Jeez. That's… kind of decent."

"Like I told you."

 _Kurt thinks he can fix it,_ Finn typed back. _He's awesome on the sewing machine._

"Hitting you _back?"_ Kurt added.

Finn chuckled. "Uh, yeah, I kind of… swung at Azimio. Which, I know, stupid, but I was so annoyed at him, with his mean girls routine and every rude name in the book. I mean, come on, he called Artie _the crippled kid."_

Kurt frowned. "He's just trying to provoke you. Notice Artie wasn't the one swinging at him. He has a much better sense of self-preservation."

 _If it doesn't work, I want to know, all right?_ Dave replied in his text. He added, _Kurt's not mad at me, is he?_

"I'm not," Kurt said right away, but Finn just typed, _Come up to the attic and find out for yourself._

"I don't want to get caught in that same phone-tag thing we did last week," said Finn, putting his phone away. "Friends should talk to you, not through me. I don't even know if I'd call him my friend, anyway."

Kurt stood up and went to the door to wait for Dave's knock. "You can call him anything you want to. You don't have to be friends with my friends."

There wasn't any reason to pretend he wasn't taking care of Dave, just a little, but it felt like an ordinary friend kind of taking-care, not like the way it was with himself and Noah or even himself and Blaine. Finn shook his head.

"You, friends with Dave Karofsky."

Kurt just looked back at him, daring Finn to say something else.

"Friday is date night," Kurt said eventually. "Dave wanted me to go to the observatory, but I said no. I feel kind of bad… but not bad enough to cancel a night at Masque with Noah. Carole already said she'd watch Beth on Friday night."

Finn nodded. He looked genuinely grateful. "Blaine said he thought he could arrange some alone time for the two of us at his dad's house, while he and Stephen are away."

"I'm glad," Kurt said softly. "He needs time alone with you."

"Yeah," Finn agreed. He dropped his gaze to his hands, clasped in front of himself.

Kurt nodded. "You really miss him."

"Yeah." The word was just a murmur. Finn cleared his throat. "I — I guess I didn't know it was going to be this hard, being together all summer and then going back to seeing him once or twice a week. It's stupid, how much I'm thinking about him. Wondering if he's okay, what he's doing." He chuckled to himself. "I wonder if this is how Puck feels about Beth, thinking about her all the time."

"Maybe. I don't know."

Finn turned his head to look out the window. "Maybe that's how Carl feels about me, too."

"Oh, Finn," whispered Kurt.

Then the knock came, and Kurt put his hand on the knob. For a moment, he considered not opening it, but then Finn waved at him.

"Let him in," he said. "I'm okay. It's… not a new thought."

Dave ducked through the door, a small man in a large body, and headed right for Finn where he was sitting by the window.

"Hey," he said, then paused. His eyes wouldn't land anywhere for long, glancing off and finding a new target every few seconds.

"Hey," Finn said. He watched Dave for a moment before he sighed and set the ripped jacket on the floor by the chair. Then he stood up and grabbed Dave by the shoulder. "Hey," he said again, and this time there was command in it.

Dave's face immediately screwed up in a familiar expression of fury, but he didn't move away from Finn's hand.

"It's —" Kurt began, but Dave cut him off roughly.

"Don't tell me it's fucking okay."

"Yeah. It's really not." Finn kept his Voice soft, but it was definitely there. Kurt could see Dave resisting it. "I was thinking, though, that I should say, _we're_ okay."

Dave's gaze was fixed on the jacket now. He blinked hard. "Fuck."

They stood there in that pose for about twenty seconds, Finn's arm solid on Dave's shoulder, Dave wavering between tears and non-acknowledgement that there was a hug waiting for him. At some point Kurt wondered if he should interrupt, because this was kind of a heavy moment between two people who weren't even sure if they were friends.

"Kurt was saying about the observatory," said Finn.

Dave blinked differently, this time at Finn.

"Yeah," he said, sounding guarded.

"I'd like to see that some time. It sounds cool."

Now Dave was definitely bewildered, but he didn't look angry anymore. "Yeah, it is. I mean, sure. You could come. First Fridays are open to the public, but… well, my dad has the key, so I can go any time."

"Is it like this place is for us? Kind of a sanctuary? Or is it mostly cool because of what you can see through the telescope?"

Finn was talking him down, literally. When Finn sat on the chair, Dave sat, too, on the floor next to him, much more gracefully than Kurt would have expected from a person that big.

"It can be," Dave said. "It was, sometimes, when my mom and dad were fighting a lot. Now it's more about the knowledge. I guess I like having access to the universe."

"Access to the universe," Finn repeated. "I like that."

"Yeah, it's really different from looking at pictures of space online. You'll see, when you come." Dave blushed suddenly, his cheeks going instantly bright red. "I mean, you don't have to."

"I want to," Finn insisted. "Maybe Blaine could come too?"

"Maybe." Dave closed down at the mention of Blaine, but he didn't say _fuck no,_ which is what he definitely would have said a month ago. He looked up at Finn with curiosity. "So… this thing with Rachel Berry?"

Finn laughed, which made Dave relax more. He shook his head.

"I like her," said Finn. "She's more of an outcast than anybody I know, and she hasn't figured out how to fit in just about anywhere, and… she's always giving it a hundred percent anyway. She knows what she wants. I admire that. And she's really fun to sing with."

Dave nodded thoughtfully. "You don't think she's just using you for your popularity?"

Finn laughed again, louder. " _What_ popularity? I'm just another Glee loser now. I'm not even quarterback anymore."

"She's trying to figure out the difference between what she has and what she wants," Kurt said. They both turned to look at him. "Well, you told her about Blaine. She knows what she's up against now, but she's also not going to take _no_ for an answer."

Now Finn was the one who looked thoughtful. "The difference between what she has and what she wants?"

"I don't think she's above stepping on others to get what she wants. But I think she'll listen to you."

"Yeah… I think she will, too." Finn wrinkled his nose, making Kurt laugh.

"You don't want her to listen to you?" Dave asked.

Finn sighed. "It's so much weirder than that."

Kurt glanced at his phone as it buzzed, then did a double take at the text from Noah: _holy shit you'll never guess whose in the choir room to give us a lechure about tooth brushing. Doctor fucking Howell._

"Oh," said Kurt. He put a hand to his mouth. "Uh… Finn? I think it might be about to get a lot weirder."


	8. BritneyBrittany Part 2

Carl set the basket of plaque disclosing tablets down on the piano, along with a case of toothbrushes and floss. "I brought props," he told Will, who smiled. Yes, he could tell Will was definitely grinding his teeth.

"I'm not going to be able to introduce you to all the students when they arrive," said Will, gesturing to the man behind the piano, "but this is my good friend and Glee accompanist Brad Ellis."

Carl shook Brad's hand, remembering Finn's description of the largely-silent adult who'd procured their attic room for them. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm just here," Brad said, waving his hand vaguely. "Will, I'll do some filing while the presentation is happening."

Carl opened his mouth to make another polite comment when Kurt appeared in the doorway, followed by Finn. They looked from Carl to Will, both somewhat aghast.

"Mr. Schue?" Kurt said in a strangled voice.

"I'm just on my way out the door to teach Spanish," Will added to Carl. "If you don't need anything from me before next period…?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," Carl said. He purposely avoided Kurt and Finn's eyes. "I can ask Emma if anything comes up. Okay if I wait here in the choir room?"

"Okay by me." Will gave him a polite smile, then paused and looked expectantly at Finn. "Coming to Spanish, Finn?"

Finn blinked, refocusing on Will. "Sure… yeah, Mr. Schue, I'll see you there."

He stood there until Will had disappeared, then whipped his head back around to stare at Carl. The expression on his face could have meant _what the hell are you doing here,_ or it might have meant _I have no idea what to do now._ It didn't really matter either way. But Carl could tell if he didn't head this off, it might escalate into something unmanageable.

 _"Haz lo que yo hago,"_ he said sharply. Finn took a quick breath and rocked back on his heels. Carl looked at him steadily. _"Captas?"_

 _"Ya lo capto,"_ Finn said immediately. Then he spun and fled after Will.

Kurt was not the only one listening to their conversation. The accompanist, Brad, was standing in the doorway to the little office behind the piano. He looked at Kurt.

"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked curiously.

Kurt shook his head. They both turned back to Carl.

"I needed him to do something for me," Carl said. _To do as I say — to follow my lead._ He had no doubt Finn would listen, no matter that they were at school, or that it had been far too long since Finn had been to his office for a session with the whip. He had a brief, dizzying moment in which he wondered if Finn was keeping up with the plug training in the absence of his Top, but he quickly buried those thoughts and smiled brightly at Kurt. "Do you have a class this hour, young man?"

"I — um. Yes. I have French." Kurt took a step back, and then another. "Are you… here to do something with the Glee club?"

"I'm going to talk about taking care of your teeth," he said. Kurt's _what-the-fuck_ expression was much more guarded than Finn's, but he was clearly just as confused and worried about the situation. "Your choir director asked me to come. I'm Ms. Pillsbury's friend. I certainly wasn't going to say no."

"No, of course not." This seemed to be enough to appease Kurt. He nodded. "I guess… I'll be back in an hour, then. Bye."

Brad appeared more amused than concerned by this entire interchange. He regarded Carl for a long moment.

"I take it you know these kids," he said.

Carl had plenty of experience talking around questions like this. "I'm not sure what makes you say that."

"Never mind. It's none of my business."

Carl nodded at the music on the piano. "Don't tell me the kids are singing Christopher Cross in Glee club?"

Brad made a face that made Carl laugh. "Will is _very sure_ they should be doing more 80s music than contemporary pop. The kids would beg to differ. They want to do Britney Spears."

"Mmm. And what do you think?"

"Me?" Brad looked surprised. "I — am a neutral party. I play what they need and I stay out of it."

"Except you might have a few Britney numbers queued up, just in case." He reached out a hand and slowly pulled the corner back on the sheet music stack, thumbing through to show the cover of the _Britney_ book. "I'm not so old that I wouldn't recognize the picture on that cover."

"I know plenty of musicians my age who wouldn't." Now Brad was trying not to smile. "You have a teenage daughter?"

"I do," Carl said. "But that's not why I recognize it. I've played in a couple bands over the past decade or two." He tugged on the book, questioning with his eyebrow, and Brad let him slide the book out from under Christopher Cross' _Sailing._ Carl flipped through the pages, then creased it to stay open on the page he chose and propped it on the piano. "We've got a little time. Unless you feel strongly about that filing."

Brad laughed, obviously bemused. "No, no, this is better. Okay. Rock and roll." He reached up and fiddled with the keyboard next to the piano, running through a couple different dance beats, until he settled on one that pleased him. He played the melancholy opening violin line on the keyboard, too, combining electronic and acoustic instruments into a seamless whole.

Carl began, keeping his tone light and breathy, like Britney's. It wasn't anything like the music he'd sung with Finn and Blaine at Irene's last spring. It was more the kind of song he could imagine Adam singing, and that made him smile. Singing with Adam at Valentine's Day had been a lot of fun - spending time with all of them, really. It was hard to admit, but Finn wasn't the only thing he missed about being around that odd little family.

(listen to Carl sing this on youtu dot be slash 64ovc5dRFE4)

 _You took your love away too fast_  
 _Left no chance to say, look back_  
 _And now I know the truth, it makes it easier  
_ _Maybe when time goes by, I'll understand_

 _Let's pretend that I moved on_  
 _Then I'll tell myself that life goes on without you_  
 _Open my eyes, look deep inside  
_ _I run away, I run away, I run away_

 _You threw it all away, so blind_  
 _Pushed me far from you in your life_  
 _Now I know the tears won't lead to loneliness  
_ _Maybe when time goes by, understand_

 _Let's pretend that I moved on…_

Brad brought it to a reasonable conclusion, and sat there with his hands on the keyboard for a long moment before grinning at Carl in appreciation.

"Jeez. That's a lot more depressing than most of her songs."

"Yeah, well, ballads usually are, right? Pick something a little more upbeat and I'll join you on the guitar." Carl stood up and got the electric from the stand in the corner. "You accompany jazz band too?"

"They have their own pianists. I'm only here part time. I teach piano lessons and take care of my kids the rest of the time. Well, when I'm not in California."

Carl looked up from tuning the guitar, smiling. " _You're_ the guy working with Gaga on the new album!" Then, from the look on Brad's face, he realized he would have had no way to know that. He turned his attention to tuning. "It's, uh. Which one are we doing?"

"Do you play with Finn and Blaine?" asked Brad. Carl almost choked before he added, "In their band. Labyrinth. Puck told me about it."

The meaning of the word _play_ Carl had been considering hadn't had anything to do with music. He tried to relax. "So you know them, too."

Brad nodded back. "Puck babysat for me all summer while I was in California. He's really good with my kids. And his own."

He strummed a few chords, trying to figure out what he could say. "I — used to be married to Beth's other parent. Shelby." _Kind of._

"Wow." Brad blinked. "That's an unexpected connection." He refocused on the music in front of him, and laughed, shaking his head. "Hey, did Britney really cover _this_ song?"

"She really did."

Brad bent down and tugged a little monitor amp out from behind the piano, offering the cable to Carl. While Carl plugged in, Brad adjusted the volume until the guitar was loud enough to be heard.

"We don't really have to keep it down in here," he said. Brad looked pointedly at Carl. "Nobody can hear what's being said in this room."

"That may be," Carl said, looking right at Brad, "but as long as I'm at this school, I think it's good to keep it quiet. I wouldn't want to disturb anybody's learning."

It wasn't exactly the kind of song you sang quietly, but Carl managed to rock it out anyway. He didn't bother to try to make his voice sound like Britney this time. If anything, it was more like the Joan Jett version than the original by the Arrows. Like most rock music, he'd been playing this one since long before Finn was born. But there was something that happened when a new musician played a cover of an old song. It made it easier to look at it in a new way. When he played the drums or guitar or sang with the boys in Labyrinth, it didn't matter that Carl was approaching fifty, no more than it mattered that they were thirty years his junior. The music was an equalizer.

(youtu dot be slash M3T_xeoGES8)

 _I saw him dancing there by the record machine_  
 _I knew he must have been about seventeen_  
 _The beat was going strong_  
 _Playing my favorite song  
_ _And I could tell it wouldn't be long till he was with me, yeah me_

 _Singing, I love rock and roll_  
 _So put another dime in the jukebox, baby_  
 _I love rock and roll  
_ _So come and take your time and dance with me_

Brad was actually singing along on the chorus when Kurt skittered in through the doorway. His eyes were huge as he looked from Carl with the guitar and Brad at the piano. They stopped playing.

"Hey, Kurt," Carl said casually. "Brad and I were just talking about Lady Gaga and Shelby and things."

"Oh." Kurt's mouth looked like it wanted to add a couple _things_ of its own, but after a few moments of silence, he just said, "Rachel's on her way down the hall."

"Well, then, I suppose I'd better put this away." Carl lifted the guitar over his head, feeling the flutter of _Rachel_ in his stomach, and unplugged it before placing it carefully back on the stand in the corner. He went through a series of calming exercises — the same ones he'd taught Finn; the same that Tess had taught to him so many years ago.

By the time Rachel arrived, chatting with Finn, his face was neutrally cheerful. Finn did not look at him, in a way that seemed incredibly obvious to Carl, but he decided nobody else in the room would notice.

Emma and Will arrived next. They were both smiling, but their faces were showing a little strain.

Carl picked up the basket of plaque disclosing tablets and shook it. "Showtime!"

The rest of the club began to filter in. Carl could recognize most of them from Finn's descriptions. Quinn sat in the second row near two other cheerleaders. The one with dark hair stared at him suspiciously.

"Are you a teacher?"

He smiled. "No, I'm a dentist."

When Puck arrived, he ignored Carl, too, so Carl figured Puck had already been alerted to his presence. He sat next to Kurt, but they weren't snuggling or touching in any way.

"Are we singing about teeth now?" asked the tall blonde girl.

Mr. Schue stepped forward. "Guys, let me introduce you to Carl Howell. Dr. Howell is here to talk to us about good dental hygiene. I know this is a little break from what we usually do, but I want you to give him your full attention, because this is important. You're going to need good teeth if you're planning to be performers."

"Or eat," added Carl. "Or open up those plastic packages, the ones that are impossible to cut?" He waggled his eyebrows at the suspicious dark-haired girl, who grinned back at him. "I'm kidding. You should never use your teeth to open those things. All right, so here's the deal." He held up a plaque disclosing tablet between his fingers. "You chew this little capsule. Now, if there's any plaque you missed, the dye will stick to it and turn your teeth blue."

The dark-haired girl raised her hand. "Can I just say that you are the hottest dentist I've ever seen?"

"I get that all the time," Carl said.

"No, like, seriously, you can totally drill me whenever —"

"Santana," Emma interrupted hastily. "Okay? Let's… stay focused."

"Rock n' roll, Emms." Carl handed out the last tablet and returned to Will, clapping him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a manly way. "And besides, this guy? He's pretty easy on the eyes too, huh?"

They all gave him a very familiar teenager look, the one that said, _you're shitting me, right?_ Because of course none of them had ever flirted with or hit on their Glee club director. Carl mentally kicked himself and tried again.

"And you know what? No matter how hard I tried, I bet I couldn't sing and dance like him."

Carl thought he heard a little snorting sound from the direction of the choir office. Emma smiled serenely, clearly too polite to comment.

"Uh, probably not," Will murmured.

They chewed their tablets with predictable results; most teenagers were terrible flossers. When Rachel opened her mouth to reveal shiny azure teeth, Carl could only say, "Well, sometimes it's genetics." He wasn't going to mention Shelby's bout with gingivitis when she was in college. He wondered if he could convince Leroy and Hiram to take Rachel in for extra fluoride treatments.

After following up with the students who had the worst plaque build-up, he invited everyone to come take a toothbrush and a spool of floss, then go to the restroom to brush away the tablet residue. In the midst of everyone's movement, Carl came down the risers and found himself abruptly face-to-face with Finn. They both paused.

"Uh," said Finn. He was already blushing. "Thanks for, uh, teaching us about plaque and stuff."

 _I have so many things left to teach you, my boy._ Luckily, Carl had learned long ago how to control his physical responses to others. He handed Finn a card. Finn stared at it.

"If you want to make an appointment," Carl said. "My secretary will arrange a time for you to come in and we can discuss… options."

"O-okay," Finn said hoarsely. "Thanks."

Rachel returned from the bathroom with her usual shiny white smile, but she looked distressed.

"Dr. Howell," she said, approaching him with determination, "I need to schedule a deep cleaning. This is unacceptable. My teeth need to convey exactly who I am to the world."

"Don't worry, Rachel," he said, giving her a card. "We'll make them shine as bright as the star you are."

She beamed at him. He thought about the gold star tattoo on his shoulder, the one Alec had done for him when Rachel went to kindergarten. That made him think about the other tattoo over his heart, the triplet sixteenths with the accent and the fermata, matching the ones Kurt and Puck and Finn and Adam had. All of his tattoos meant something to him, even the stupid tramp stamp, but that one had been special. It still was.

"Well," said Emma, once all the students had gone. She took a deep breath. "That was… educational."

"Thanks for giving me the time," Carl told Will. "I hope I didn't interrupt your rehearsal schedule too badly."

Will gave him a strange smile. "No, no. I can tell the kids got a lot out of your visit."

He nodded. "You should come in to see me yourself, you know? I could do something about that grinding. And I'm sure you and I have plenty to talk about."

* * *

 _(Author's note:_ _The YouTube link to what appears to be a male cover of Britney's song "I Run Away" is the actual Britney Spears song modulated down a fifth in Audacity. It might give you an idea of what Carl would sound like singing it. I think it actually sounds a little like Adam. Sadly, there is no cover out there of John Stamos singing Britney Spears, but at least we have pictures of Brittany and John Stamos in leather and sequins to inspire us. -amy)_


	9. BritneyBrittany Part 3

Kurt opened the door to the attic and paused when he saw Finn sitting on the mattress, his legs hanging off the edge. "Oh. I thought you had football practice?"

"I do. I'm just —" He held up his phone, smiling sheepishly. "Waiting for a text from Blaine. I told him to stop studying and eat something before heading to Warblers practice, and he told me he'd send me a picture as proof."

Kurt came over and sat beside him, enjoying the warmth of their legs pressed together. Finn gave him a lovely slow kiss.

"We got the wedding invitation from Katy today," he said. "She added a plus-two, just like she said she would: _Finn Hudson and Guest and Guest."_ He grinned. "Too bad it's in India."

"That was a really nice gesture of her, anyway," Kurt agreed. He nodded at the time on Finn's phone. "You don't care about getting disciplined for being late for football?" He rolled his eyes at Finn's expression. "No, I don't mean _that_ kind of discipline _._ Of course your coach wouldn't."

"You know, she kind of does, in less obvious ways? Carl told me discipline is discipline, as long as it's consensual. We're definitely asking for it, showing up for practice at all." Finn shrugged. "It doesn't feel bad, anyway, when she makes us run laps or shames us or - whatever. We know we deserve what we get. But no, she's not spanking us. Pretty sure she's not allowed to do that. Though some of the guys could sure use it."

Kurt snorted. "I've thought that sometimes too."

Finn's phone buzzed. When they looked at the picture of Blaine, they made simultaneous _ohhh_ noises. Finn laughed, shaking his head.

"Jeez. He looks —"

"I know. I take two hours in the morning to look that put together, and he just rolls out of bed and puts on his clothes and absolutely kills it." Kurt touched Blaine's uniform blazer with one finger, the smile on Blaine's face as he lifted the forkful of pasta to his mouth.

"I love how you dress," said Finn. "Do you wish I would work that hard to look good?"

"I'm not going to tell you how to dress. Mostly. I do like it when you wear the clothes I buy you."

Finn typed _That's my good boy._ Then he set the phone down in his lap and leaned his head back against the brick. "Rachel said something today. Something that bothered me. She noticed I upset, and it was because I was kind of missing, um… someone." He paused. "Does that bother you?"

"I told you, I understand. I miss him too."

"Not Blaine." His voice came out soft. "Carl."

"Oh." Kurt slipped his fingers into Finn's hand and looked up into his eyes. "I don't know. How do you feel about it?"

He laughed quietly, not smiling. "I feel — embarrassed. Just seeing him for half an hour in Glee was enough to put me totally off balance. Every time I see him I start questioning my decisions, and I _hate it._ " The last two words came out with force. "I don't _want_ to miss him. I don't want to _need_ that from him. Plus, it's dangerous. Look at what happened to Matt and Coach Tanaka. I know Carl said he has protections in place, that he's covered if stuff ever came out about us, but I still…" He shook his head from side to side, slowly, regretfully. "I would never forgive myself if he got in trouble because of me."

Kurt nodded. "Well, I have thoughts about that, but I want to hear what Rachel said."

"Yeah. So I was upset, and she asked me what was wrong. She thought I didn't like the banana bread she made me, but that wasn't it, it was good. I mean, it wasn't Puck's bread, but I wasn't going to say that, I just told her it was awesome. Anyway, I couldn't exactly tell her why I was upset, so I asked her about the football thing instead. I don't actually care about getting kicked off the team all that much, I know why the Coach did it? And yeah, maybe it's a harsher response than I would given if I'd been in charge, but that's her style. And Rachel said she felt kind of better about it, because if I'm feeling bad about myself, she gets to make me feel good. And she said she wants to be the _only_ thing that makes me feel good." Finn's face twisted. "Doesn't that seem kind of…"

"Controlling?" Kurt suggested. "Manipulative? Codependent?"

"I guess?" He looked sidelong at Kurt. "I know you think she's all those things."

"No, I _know_ she's all those things. You can still love her even if she is, but I think you have to be careful, too. And you have to set very clear boundaries. You have to let her know that's not okay, to expect that from you. It's not healthy, Finn."

"Yeah." He scratched his ear. "Well, I kind of didn't stand up for her when Santana said mean things to her in the hallway. I feel bad about that. I'm supposed to be her protector, right?"

"She can protect herself," Kurt said firmly. "You don't have to treat her any differently than you would treat me or Noah. She's not going to break because of a little insult."

"Yeah. So now I have to decide if I'm going to go into his office or not." Finn took a business card out of his pocket and held it up. It read _Dr. Carl Howell, D.D.S._

"Not the dentist office," Kurt guessed. Finn shook his head.

"I haven't been to seem him at all since Rachel got back this summer. It just felt… weird, after things picked up with us. She's his _daughter._ And all this stuff with Ms. Pillsbury. I know they're not really boyfriend and girlfriend, but —"

"I think they really are," Kurt said. "Even if they're not having sex. That's not what defines a relationship."

Finn looked baffled. "It is for _me."_

"What does Carl call her?"

"His slave. He wasn't having sex with Angela either."

Kurt frowned. "I don't think it's the same as it was with Angela. Carl and Ms. Pillsbury, they're cute together. They hug and kiss and all those relationshippy things. And I don't think she minds."

"No, but…" Finn paused. "I think she's still in love with Mr. Schue."

"Well, too bad for her. He has Toby." Kurt watched Finn's face. "Right? Too bad for her?"

"I don't know," said Finn, shrugging. "They were dating. I think Mr. Schue wants — that thing she doesn't want from Carl."

Kurt's glare sharpened to laser-like precision. "Finn, Mr. Schue does _not_ want to have sex with Ms. _Pillsbury._ He has _Toby._ "

"What is the big deal if he does? Look at _us._ Can't he have whoever he wants as long as Toby is okay with it?"

Kurt put his fingers in his ears and shook his head. "No. No, I'm not listening to this. You know why? Because when Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were dating before, it was _pretend_ dating. But if he's decided wants to _really_ date her, he's going to end up falling into this it's-easier-being-straight thing he always does, and Toby is going to get left out again. That is _not_ okay."

Finn was looking more and more surprised. "Jeez, you've given this a lot of thought. I guess he does do that pretending-to-be-straight thing pretty well."

"He's going to have to get over himself if they're going to get married." Kurt rose to his feet along with Finn, and sighed, trying to calm himself. "All right. You'd better get to football practice."

"Yeah, she might make me eat pizza and then run laps again. That was pretty gross." Finn gave him another sweet kiss, which was almost enough to calm him down. "I'm going home to help Sarah make dinner. Noah's meeting with his father again tonight."

"Again? He's been doing that a lot." Finn held open the door for Kurt. "I wonder what they talk about when they get together."

Kurt smiled as he breezed through the door. "I doubt it's anything like what we talk about."

* * *

Carl removed the tartar scraper from Will's mouth and made a note on his clipboard. "Evidence of some grinding. I'll set you up with a night guard."

"Fantastic," Will said crisply. "Happy to do it."

Carl paused, then sighed and set his clipboard down. "All right… can we stop this right now?"

Will stared determinedly at the ceiling. "What?"

"Well, this is clearly awkward for the two of us." He grabbed the wheeled chair and sat down, moving so his face was even with Will's. "All right, let's talk it out. Bro-to-bro."

"Fine. _Bro."_ Will leveled his gaze at Carl, but before he could say anything, Carl spoke again.

"Emma has feelings for you. Strong feelings."

That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. Will scrambled for a foothold, but it was hard to feel in control of a conversation when he was the one sitting with a paper bib around his neck. "I — I have feelings for her, too. Not like you do, maybe, but… she's really important to me."

"The difference is she chose me to be in charge of her. To help her deal with her issues. That's what I'm doing. It's because I love her and I want her to be happy. Do you understand?"

"Of course I do."

Carl shook his head. "I don't think you do. What we have together, I know she's told you some things. And it's powerful, important. Special. But we're not having sex."

"I know. She told me that too."

"That's good." Carl nodded. "Now, I don't know what's going to happen with Emma and me, but I know what we _want_ to happen. And if there's no sex, we're not going to get it."

Will sat forward, the bib forgotten. "You mean she wants a baby?"

"We both do," said Carl. "That's important to us, just as much as helping her deal with her OCD. So far, she hasn't shown any signs of wanting sex with me. I'm okay with that. But I've been trying to get her to name some other people who might be good candidates." He tapped Will on the chest. "You're the only guy who's come up."

He could only stare at Carl. "You want me to have sex. With Emma." It wasn't the first time Emma had broached the subject with him, but it was definitely the first time anyone else had asked on her behalf. Will wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"I'm just asking you to consider it."

"What if I tell you that I don't think I could do that?" Will pointed at his own mouth. "Rinse?"

Carl reached over and handed him a paper cup. "Will, put yourself in my shoes. She came to me to help her feel whole again. She doesn't want to go the surgical route. She _wants_ to have a man in her life who gives her that feeling. If I can't help her with that, I'll be failing her."

Will handed the cup back. "Okay, fine. I'll think about it. But the second she shows any kind of distress, I'm backing off. Deal?"

"Deal." Carl gave him a little smile. "Now open back up. I want to continue this examination." But it only lasted a few seconds before Carl was sitting back again, shaking his head.

"You know what? I got just the thing for you."

He stood up and walked around to his desk, rummaging around in the drawer. The thing he drew out made Will splutter a little.

"Handcuffs?"

Carl handed Will the leather cuffs. They felt soft, softer than he would have expected, and they were a pretty maroon color with silver tooling. He gave Will a smile. "You've got to give her the control she needs, bro. I honestly think that's why you and Emma didn't work out. There's not a dominant bone between the two of you."

"And you think putting her in — in _shackles_ is going to change that?"

"You gotta get ridiculous, bro. You gotta just start doing things to take charge of her for no good reason. You know, I used to get up at the same time ever day and have the same eggs. Then, one day, I'm driving the hybrid to work, I pass a Chevy dealership. The new Corvettes had just come in, so I stop right on the spot. I make a U-turn and I buy one. Now I take the top down, take Emma for a spin, she doesn't even care if her hair gets messed up." He gave Will a look over his glasses. "You follow me?"

Will wasn't exactly sure he did, but he nodded. It didn't seem like a good idea to say no to that voice.

"Good. Just think about it. And let me know if you need any suggestions." His smile widened. "I'm becoming an expert at throwing Emma off her game."

Will quickly hid the cuffs behind his back when he realized Rachel was sitting in the waiting room.

"You all set?" he asked her as he checked out with the receptionist. "Do you need me to stay with you?"

"I've been taking herbal anti-anxiety pills and reading the unauthorized biography of Britney Spears to stay calm." Rachel looked at him more closely. "Are you okay? Did you have a cavity or something? Is that… candy?"

"It's nothing," he said. "I'm fine. Good luck."

He put the maroon leather cuffs into the glove compartment of his old station wagon and tried not to think about them. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to know why Carl thought Emma needed to be controlled at all, but even less sure why Emma wanted him to be the one to do it.

 _I could have a baby with her,_ he thought. It made him light-headed to conceive of it. But he couldn't stop thinking about what Toby had said.

He sighed, leaning on the steering wheel. He considered giving Toby a call, but he knew he wouldn't pick up. _How do I know I'm making the right decision if I can't talk to you about it?_

* * *

Rachel muttered a little, shifting in the chair. Carl reached over and adjusted the nitrous mask, giving her another hit, and she settled back into her comatose state. He resumed the process of heavy scaling on her teeth.

"You know, I can't remember the last time we were this close to one another," he said conversationally. "It's not your fault. It's not even your dads' fault. They said this was okay because you wouldn't be awake anyway, and you wouldn't remember it. And anyway, I don't know if I could be rational about maintaining distance if we saw each other all the time. Being at your school this week was pretty weird."

He sighed and sat back in his own chair.

"Okay, that's not the only reason it was weird. This thing with you and Finn, I thought I'd come to terms with it. I didn't want to be controlling of him — I mean, yes, I _did,_ of course I did, but — not like that. Not about his relationships. He's a capable young man, he can handle his own —"

He swallowed the word _subs,_ looking down at his daughter, still moving fitfully every now and then. Eventually he continued working.

"I remember when you were a little girl," he said, "less than two years old, I think, but you already had a leotard and baby toe shoes and a little tutu. And every time we came over, you would put on a show for me and Shelby and Davis, and your dads and Mark, and you would insist that somebody had the flashlight on you the whole time. If one of us put it down, you'd stop dancing and toddle over and firmly put it back on you. You _required_ that spotlight." He shook his head, smiling at the memory. "You were definitely in control. I honestly don't think you would ever want someone in control of you. But then, I never thought I wanted that either, and look at me? I've got Tess."

He brushed her brown hair back from her face, lighter than Shelby's, the same color as his own.

"And don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't think he could do it. I think Finn could Top just about anybody he wanted to. He has the good instincts for it, and he's building control, more every day. I mean, he was."

Carl paused and held his hands very still until they stopped shaking, then continued.

"I'm sure he still is. So I think what I'm saying is… I want to give the two of you my blessing. Even if you never hear it. Even if he doesn't want it."

He disconnected the gas and deposited his instruments in the container to be autoclaved. Then he stripped off his gloves and took out his handkerchief, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. Finally, he washed his hands and dried them thoroughly before reaching over and gently touching her face.

"Rachel? Rachel, wake up." He smiled as she began to stir. "You Glee kids are impossible to work on. You're always moving around when you're under."

"Daddy?" she said.

He froze, not daring to respond. Eventually she blinked and opened her eyes.

"Hey," he said roughly. "You're doing fine. Hiram will be here soon to take you home."

She moved her jaw carefully. "Is this real life?"

He smiled again, a little sadly. "Yeah. I ask myself that sometimes, too."

* * *

Kurt had never been sent to the principal's office before, but he figured in this case he probably deserved it. He waited in the chair in the hallway outside the office instead of going in to bother Principal Figgins. Mr. Schue joined him shortly, frowning angrily at Kurt.

"Can we talk in _your_ office instead?" Kurt asked.

"No, Kurt. You crossed a line this time when you told me to _get a grip_ in front of Glee club."

"I know. But I think we should deal with this ourselves. For one thing, Figgins isn't going to care about me mouthing off to you in Glee. For another, I'm not going to tell him the real reason I did it." Kurt looked up at him. "Because it's about Toby."

Mr. Schue paused, still frowning, but he beckoned Kurt to follow him. They went into his tiny little office outside the Spanish room and closed the door.

"What's going on, Kurt? This isn't like you."

"You need to stop this with Ms. Pillsbury," Kurt interrupted.

Mr. Schue stared at him. "How did you —?"

"I have eyes, Mr. Schue. I can see what's going on. I see how she looks at you. Now I know you are going to tell me it's none of my business, but —"

"That's right!" said Mr. Schue. He looked completely offended. "It's _not_ any of your business! What Toby and I do, and whoever we choose to date, is completely _our_ business."

He smiled triumphantly. "So you _are_ planning to date her."

"I didn't say that. And Kurt, what if I were? Aren't you dating _three_ people?"

"Well… four. Not that it's any of _your_ business." He brushed his bangs off his forehead. "But this isn't about that, Mr. Schue. This is about Toby. You can't just treat him like a— like you used to, when you were married to Terri. He's going to be your husband, not your toy."

"Kurt!" he gasped. Kurt held up a hand.

"You can suspend me later, but hear me out. Toby does not deserve to bear the brunt of your own uncertainty. I don't care how you define your sexuality, where you fall on the Kinsey scale, whatever. The truth is, he loves you, and he's making a commitment to you. If you're not sure if you can deal with gay marriage, and all the challenges that come with that, you shouldn't do it. But at least have the courtesy to tell him that. Don't just substitute what you have with him for something with Ms. Pillsbury because it's easier." He took a deep breath and sat back. "I'm done."

Mr. Schue didn't say anything right away. He stared down at his desk, moving papers around.

"This conversation has crossed a big line, Kurt. Even worse than before in Glee." His shoulders dropped, and he seemed to deflate. "But then, you and I have been crossing them all year. You're Toby's friend, and I'm… his fiancé." He looked up. "It would be pointless to pretend he doesn't matter to both of us. And given my history, I can see why you'd be concerned on his behalf."

"Well." Kurt tried to quiet the adrenaline that was still rushing through him. "That's very big of you to say."

"So what I'm going to tell you now doesn't leave this room. Not with your boyfriends, nobody. All right? I'm trusting you."

Kurt nodded, watching Mr. Schue warily. Mr. Schue sighed.

"Emma and I aren't dating. But it might end up looking like we are to the outside world." He sounded introspective, like he was figuring things out as he said them. "So if that happens, and I'm saying _if,_ I don't want you to be concerned. Toby and I will work it out. Do you understand?"

Kurt nodded again.

"Now, I care about Emma, but… she's not Toby. No one ever has been." Mr. Schue's face hadn't softened. "I haven't always treated him the way I should. We have a unique relationship. I can't pretend it's always easy for me to deal with. You of all people should understand this, Kurt."

"I do," he said. "But —"

"But you're going to have to trust me, _and Toby,_ that we can work it out together. This has to come from us, without interference from our friends. Which isn't to say he doesn't need a friend like you. He really does."

Kurt blinked back sudden tears. "You're right. There's nobody like him."

"That's not what I said." Mr. Schue smiled. " _You're_ like him, Kurt. You've got that same incredible drive to be exactly yourself, and you don't take any bull from anybody who says you should be otherwise. I've taught a lot of teenagers, and I've only ever met one other person like that. Hang on to that strength, Kurt. You're going to need it to survive in this business."

He rose from his desk, scribbling on a piece of paper, then handed it to Kurt, his face serious.

"I'll see you after school on Friday for detention."

"Mr. Schue," he began, because that was his date night with Noah, but then he stopped himself and nodded. Noah would understand if they had to leave a little bit late. "Yes. All right. I'll be here."

* * *

It took Dave about five minutes to text Finn after he'd catcalled Rachel wearing her Britney Spears outfit. Finn hid his phone under his hoodie and read what Dave had typed.

 _Apparently the gay guys do get the hottest chicks. And what I was doing? It wasn't "personifying," it was "objectifying."_

 _Rachel already corrected me,_ Finn typed back. _She's just dressing up that way to get back at me for rejoining the football team. I don't even like it._

That wasn't completely right. Rachel had said _in order for this relationship to work, we can't control each other._ That was a pretty clear message that she was declining his offer to be in charge.

 _That's completely stupid,_ said Dave.

 _She's insecure and she wants me all to herself._ _I think she's doing what Kurt said, pushing to see what she can get, even after I told her my boundaries._

Finn paused, looking at what he'd just written, because it had suddenly occurred to him that that was exactly what he'd been doing with Carl. Except in this case, they were his own boundaries, not Carl's — and he was still pushing.

 _That's really shitty of her,_ Dave said.

"You're not kidding," Finn muttered.

* * *

On her way back from lunch, Emma heard a familiar horn honk. She turned and smiled, expecting to see Carl in his red Corvette, but instead she found Will idling by the curb in a yellow one, identical to Carl's.

"Will!" she exclaimed. "What is this? What happened to your car?"

"I sold it. He patted the seat beside himself. "Come here, hop in."

She did as he told her, touching all the very clean surfaces of the car as he described how his old muffler had been like the shackles of Marley's ghost. But before he could put the car into gear, _Terri_ was suddenly standing in front of them.

"Get out of the car," she demanded.

He hopped right out. Will and Terri proceeded to have the worst fight, right there in the middle of the parking lot, while Emma sat in the yellow Corvette and felt as uncomfortable as she ever had. Eventually she got out of the car and walked away.

As soon as she reached her office, she called Carl.

"Will and his ex-wife just — " she began, and then she started to cry.

 _"Emma, listen to me,"_ he said calmly. _"I'm telling you what to do. Can you hear me?"_

"Yes," she sniffed.

 _"Put the phone down. Get a cloth from your drawer and put some cold water on it. Wash your face. Then blow your nose and pick up the phone again. I'll wait here while you do that."_

Emma followed his directions. With each step, she grew calmer, and by the time she picked up the phone again, her tears had stopped.

"I don't know why it bothered me so much," she said, after she'd explained what Terri had done. "I know he's never going back to her."

 _"Do you want me to tell you why I think it bothered you?"_

"Yes, please."

 _"Because you hate to see Will being weak. That's not how you see him, and you don't like what Terri does to him."_

She felt herself start to cry again, but she stopped herself before it could get out of hand again. "That's right," she agreed. "I don't see him that way. I want — I want him to be in control."

 _"I know. He might not be able to meet that need, Emms. Are you prepared to deal with that?"_

"I don't know," she whispered. She covered her face. "I'm sorry, sir."

 _"There's nothing to be sorry about, baby. You're such a good girl. You can want what you want. I'll help you when it feels too hard."_

She took a deep breath. "I don't quite understand how you can be so nice to me when you know I — when I don't want that with you."

 _"You get to say no to anyone. To everyone, if you prefer. About anything. I'm going to keep helping you until you tell me you don't want to have a baby anymore."_

"I don't think that's going to happen," she said.

 _"Then I'll help you for the rest of your life."_

This time the tears came, and she let them fall. "That sounds like a — a very serious proposal."

 _"Yes, Emms. It is. You think you might consider that with me? Don't answer yet. Just think about it."_

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

 _"It's my pleasure. Can you come home a little early tonight? I'd like to do some shibari with you before dinner."_

That sounded so wonderful, she didn't know how to express it, so she just said, "Yes, sir," again.

 _"All right. You can spend five minutes rearranging your desk before you go back to work."_

She smiled, feeling the tension draining from her shoulders, and shook her hair back. "Thank you, sir."


	10. BritneyBrittany Part 4

_(Author's note: The religious elements are getting heavier now. Warning for emotional manipulation, and some hard times for Will and Toby. I wish I could say it'll get better, but it won't any time soon. -amy)_

* * *

Coach Beiste waited in the doorway to the locker room, beckoning to Finn. "What's the holdup, Hudson?"

"I had the wrong pads. Those were the ones for Artie. I'll be right out, Coach."

She nodded, watching him closely. "You're not having trouble with my decision to choose Evans as quarterback, are you?"

"No, no, he's a good player. I just want the team to win."

"You don't have a problem taking orders from somebody like him?"

He wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Somebody like… who? Because he's a sophomore?"

"Forget it. I'm glad it's not an issue. You're a good leader, but it's important that these guys know how to follow plays, not just follow a leader. Sam will run my plays exactly the way I tell him to. You've got too much initiative."

"Uh… thank you?"

The coach laughed. "Yeah. Get out on the field ASAP, okay?"

She disappeared through the outside door. Finn settled the football pads on his shoulders and took a deep breath, but before he could follow her, Rachel was standing in the doorway. She looked around in curiosity.

"I always thought the boys' locker room would be all sexy, but actually, it smells like feet in here."

"Uh, Rachel, you can't be in here."

She held up a hand. "I just want you to know that I heard everything that you said earlier, and that I respect your needs, and I'll do anything to make you feel safe and happy."

"All right," he said slowly. "Well… thanks? I gotta go."

"Wait!" Her smile dropped away. "I mean… don't you want to make me feel safe and happy too?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Rachel… I can't _make_ you feel anything. You have feelings. I want to know what they are, but neither of us can control them." He paused and thought that over. _I can't control my feelings._ "But what I can do is tell you what I need. I need… um, that thing where I get to do my own stuff and you can't tell me what to do."

"Autonomy?" she guessed.

"Yeah! That. I need autonomy."

She looked pretty grumpy about that. "I thought you said you wanted to control me."

"No, _you_ said I should do that. Which, Rachel, I gotta say… that's not actually letting me control you. That's you doing the controlling."

"Look," she snapped, "how am I supposed to trust that you really care about me if you're with all these other people? How do I know I'm _really_ important to you unless you feel as jealous as I do? Let's face it, Finn, the only way that this relationship is going to work is if we agree to some rules."

He was barely listening to her words. Instead, he took in the way she was clenching her teeth, tensing up her whole body as she spoke. "Okay… come here."

Without thinking, he reached out for her and took her in his arms, clasping her firmly against his body. She didn't struggle; on the contrary, she settled right down.

He leaned down and spoke quietly into her ear. "This is how it's gonna happen. I'm going to continue my own relationships, just as they are. There might even be more of them. I might tell you, and I might not. I'll be as honest as I can, but some people's secrets aren't mine to tell. I'm going to be safe. You and me, we're going to talk, and we're going to listen to one another, and we're going to be honest with our feelings. Sometimes it's going to be hard. But we're going to trust one another because that's what people do when they love each other."

Rachel stroked his arm uncertainly. "That's very… _progressive,_ Finn. And romantic. But… I don't know."

Finn sighed. "Rachel, you can't ask me to choose between you and everybody else."

She looked up at him resolutely. "Well, I am."

He watched her walk out with a sense of regret. _Then that's going to have to be the end for us._

* * *

Puck paused by Finn's locker on the way out the door, jingling the keys to the Impala. Finn looked up. "You're heading out early? Aren't you coming to Glee?"

"I'm getting on the road to Akron now to beat the traffic."

Finn looked like he wanted to say more, but he just remarked, "You're racking up a lot of miles on that car to spend time with your dad."

"Yeah. He's trying, and I'm trying to let him. What's going on? You look like somebody kicked your puppy."

"I don't know," Finn admitted. "Something weird is happening. Quinn asked me if I wanted to get back together."

Puck raised both eyebrows. "O-kay? I mean… she knows about you and me and Kurt, right?"

"I thought she was on our side," said Finn. "She said she was, anyway."

"So what did you tell her?"

"Well, there were all these people around, so I just said I'm in love with somebody else and that I think she knows who that is." He shrugged. "I guess that was all I could do?"

"And was Rachel standing there watching you the whole time?"

"I don't think so? What, you think she put Quinn up to that?" He made a face. "Rachel wouldn't do that."

Puck patted him on the shoulder. "You know, man, your biggest problem with Rachel is that you can't see who she really is. You keep thinking of her as this honest, forthright person, but she's not. Until you get that through your head, she's never going to live up to your expectations."

Finn glared at him. "You're pushing it, man."

"I know," Puck said cheerfully. "You can take it out on me when I get back tonight. See ya."

* * *

After apologizing to Emma and returning the yellow Corvette to the dealer, Will still had one last task to complete. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to manage it, but he figured if nothing else, Toby deserved the truth from him.

He drove his old station wagon with the dragging muffler back to his apartment and went inside. Then he called Toby's cell phone.

"I'm sorry to bother you at practice," he said. "I know Thursday night is your late one."

 _"That's all right, darlin'. I have a few minutes to spare while the kids finish their warmup with Dustin. He's a hell of a taskmaster. We still on for you to come out tomorrow after work?"_

Will let out a shaky laugh. "I think you might want to wait and ask that after you hear what I'm going to tell you."

 _"Oh, Will."_ The background noise began to subside as Toby moved into a quieter hallway. _"What'd you get yourself into now?"_

"Well, Rachel sang this song for Glee today. We had a big debacle yesterday at the pep assembly; I'll tell you about it another time. But she sang a song for Finn, one that apologized for trying to control him. She said that she was trying to hold on to how he made her feel so much, she was strangling him. And that what she needed to do was to let him go, to let him be free to be himself." He sighed, settling on the couch. "I wish I'd always let you do that, Toby."

 _"I think you ain't never gonna stop apologizing for B-W senior year."_ Toby sounded amused. _"You know I forgave you a long time ago."_

"I don't think I've earned it yet," said Will. "I'll keep trying, though, if you'll let me."

 _"You scored some big points in that department with Darius this summer, darlin'. Letting him in that way."_

There were no pictures of Darius in his apartment, but it hadn't been so long that Will couldn't hear his voice in his head, or feel the texture of his braids under his fingers. He closed his eyes. "I wish I had the chance to thank him for that, too."

" _Nothin' says you can't call him and tell him over the phone."_

"Maybe I will. Toby…" He gathered his courage. "Emma's struggling. You remember back last winter when she was my beard? Well, she needs help now. Her boyfriend Carl, he's helping a lot, but I think she might still need me."

Toby was quiet for a moment. Will bit his lip.

"Toby?"

 _"Need you how?"_ Toby asked slowly.

"Well, you might remember she hasn't been able to… to have sex with him. With anybody. When we tried it, it was a big failure. I don't know if that she can't or she won't, but either way, it's going to be hard for her to get what she wants if she doesn't have sex with him. She wants a baby, Toby. Carl thinks I'm the only person she'll tolerate doing that with. I'm not even sure if she can, or will, but… I want to help her."

 _"Will."_ Toby's voice was heavy. _"You don't want to have a baby with her because you want to help her. You want to have a baby with her because you're in love with her."_

"No," he protested.

 _"Yeah, Will. You are. I know you, and I know how you are about that woman. I like Emma. I ain't gonna tell you no. But I am gonna say I can't be around while you're doin' it."_

Will caught his breath. "Toby. Are you — you're breaking up with me?"

 _"I'm setting my boundaries, Will. You finish up what you need to do with her. When it's all done, you give me a call. I ain't goin' nowhere. All our rules still apply. Make sure she's been tested first, all right?"_

Even sitting on the couch, he felt dizzy. "She's a virgin, Toby. I can't believe you're —"

" _What? Sayin' no to you? I ain't doing that. I'm keeping myself safe. First it was the way you treated Shannon, and now this with Emma. I can't deal with that kind of drama, not if I'm gonna teach these kids and stay sane. You let me know when you're done, Will."_ He sounded so sad. _"I'll be loving you."_

"Toby," Will whispered, but he'd already hung up.

* * *

There was this one thing that the men in Puck's dad's group did every time that made him feel kind of strange. It was the way they prayed for forgiveness for all the bad things they'd ever done. It was a foreign concept to Puck.

"I know I've done bad things," Puck told the group. "I just never expected God would forgive me for them. I figured I had to live with the consequences. That's what Ma always said."

"Your Ma never forgave me for my sins," his dad said sadly. "I don't blame her for that. It's not her place to forgive; it's God's."

Puck thought about the relief he'd felt, the first time Finn took on his guilt and disciplined him for it, and every time thereafter. "You don't think people can forgive?"

His dad shook his head. "I think they can, but it doesn't matter much. God's forgiveness is the only forgiveness I need."

"Do you want to confess your sins, Noah?" Ethan asked.

He'd never said them out loud before, when the other men of the group had prayed for forgiveness. Puck had just kind of sat with them in his head, wishing for Kurt's hand on his behind, or the paddle, or something more intense than that. He chewed on his lip. "I guess? There's kind of a lot of them."

"You don't have to be specific, if you're uncomfortable. We won't judge you. It's not men's place to judge one another."

Ethan looked so friendly and open that Puck found himself saying, "Yeah, okay."

They sat together in a circle with their elbows on their knees and their hands clasped in front of them, their heads bowed so that their faces turned toward the floor. Puck studied the cracks in the linoleum.

"Merciful father," said Ethan, "we come before you as men who have broken Your laws. Our sins have separated us from you. This servant of yours, Noah Puckerman, is truly sorry and he wants to turn away from his past sinful life toward you. Please listen to him and forgive him, and help him avoid sinning again."

Ethan nodded at Puck. He swallowed.

"Uh… I've done a lot of things? Things I wasn't proud of. I was mean to my mom a lot before she died. I don't talk to my brother much. I've stolen things, and drank and did drugs. I've been in a bunch of fights. I… my best friend, I had, uh, intercourse with his girlfriend, and she got pregnant." He paused. "But then she had the baby, and Beth is the best thing ever, so I'm not sure I can regret that."

"You don't have to sort through that all now, Noah," said Ethan. He put a hand on his shoulder. It felt a little like Finn's, heavy and comforting. "You just have to let God take your sins away."

Puck wasn't sure how he was supposed to submit without somebody helping him get there, but he steeled himself and tried again. "I… I've had a lot of sex? With a lot of people, guys and girls, and… I guess that would be lust. Wanted a lot of people. I wanted…" He swallowed again, remembering all the dreams about Blaine, all the times he'd woken up never knowing if he'd see him again, talk to him, kiss him. "I wanted this one boy. We both did, for months. And now we found each other, and it's — it's so good." He looked at Ethan anxiously. "How can it be a sin if it's like that? If it's so good?"

"You know the kind of man you need to be," Ethan said. "You know in your heart it's the right thing. Let God guide you on the path to be right with Him. What do you regret?"

"I regret…" He took a shaky breath. "I regret all the mistakes I ever made with other people. All the times I never told them what I really thought, because I was scared and I thought they would laugh, or kick me out, or tell me to f- to go away. I wish I could find all of them and get down on my knees and beg for them to tell me they're okay, even though I did all this bad stuff." He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I regret not taking my mom to the doctor before she died. She needed it and I think I knew and I never did anything. I regret… pretending to be something I wasn't to get what I wanted."

"What did you want?" his dad asked soberly.

"To fit in. To be a badass. For everybody to be afraid of me." He wiped his nose again. "I regret trying to handle everything on my own without asking for help."

"You're asking now, Noah. It's not too late."

 _No,_ he wanted to say. _No, I asked for help a year ago, and Finn and Kurt gave it to me. They saved me._ But these men would never understand that, he was sure of it.

"All right, Noah. That's enough." Ethan put his hand back on Puck's shoulder. "Now, pray with me: _I believe that your son, Jesus Christ, died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive and hears my prayers. I invite Jesus to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen."_

Puck had heard it enough times in that basement room now to know what to say. He tripped a little over the words, but he got most of them out. He wasn't sure if he believed all of them, but he said them, just as he had said the Kaddish at the synagogue in Santa Fe with Adam. This time, though, he had no one to take him home and tie him up and spank his bottom and tell him he was a good boy. He guessed he'd have to tell himself.

But what if he didn't believe it? What if he couldn't convince himself?

Maybe… maybe that meant he wasn't a good boy after all.

 _Is this what it feels like to be an adult?_ he wondered, and shivered there, alone in the basement.


	11. Two Years 1995

1995: Two Years Old

"Why do I have to put away all the toys?" grumbled Timmy. He lifted another handful of LEGO into the cardboard box. "Why can't Noah do it too?"

"Noah's two," said Ruth. But she sat down on the floor beside them and showed Noah how she was picking up the dirty socks from under the bed and putting them in the laundromat bag. Noah promptly took the socks back out of the bag and returned them to the floor, grinning like it was the best game ever. She sighed. "He wouldn't know what a clean house looked like if I showed it to him, anyway. Nobody cleans up around here."

"I take baths," said Timmy. "And brush my teeth. Well, sometimes."

Ruth saved the pair of socks from going into the LEGO box and returned them to the bag. "We just want it to look nice for your Uncle Samuel."

"Why?"

"Because that's what people do when they have family come over. They clean up."

"Why?" Timmy asked again.

"Because," she said, a little louder. "Just put this box in the closet, okay?"

They managed to get most of the worst of the toys and clothes off the floor in time for Ruth to run the vacuum. Timmy sat in a corner and put both hands over his ears while Noah ran in circles, shouting.

"Monster!" he told Ruth hopefully. She smiled and pushed the vacuum toward him, following him as he screeched in joy and ran for the safety of the kitchen.

Uncle Samuel arrived when he said he would. He didn't look much different from the last time she'd seen him: slim and somewhat pallid, with a mop of curly hair. Samuel smiled when he saw Timothy's matching curls.

"Looks just like me when I was that age."

"I don't like that," said Timothy irritably, pulling away from Samuel's affectionate hand on his head.

"He's not a cuddler," Ruth said.

Samuel shrugged. He peered down at Noah, who was yelling at the quiescent vacuum cleaner and stabbing it with a paper-towel-roll sword. "That one looks like a handful."

"You don't know the half of it," Ruth agreed. When Samuel pulled a wrapped package from behind his back, Noah paused, looking curious.

"It's your birthday," said Samuel. "You want to open your present?"

When Timmy showed him how he could tear the paper, Noah gleefully shredded it and held up the white book inside.

"Pac-Man!" he shouted.

"Something like that," said Samuel. "Your mom loved this book growing up. You don't already have a copy?"

Timothy snatched it out of Noah's hands and took it to the couch. Noah didn't seem to mind, happily trotting beside him and climbing up into their familiar book-sharing position. Timmy opened to the first page.

"It was missing a piece," he read. "And it was not happy. So it set off in search of its missing piece."

He went through the entire book, reading aloud in his grave five-year-old voice, while Samuel watched in amazement. Ruth brought him a beer.

"Isn't he a little young to be reading?" he murmured.

"I guess? Timmy's been doing that since he was three."

Noah listened, as he always did when his brother read to him, and when the book was done, he said, "Again, Meemee, again!"

Timmy flipped back to the first page and began again. They read it three more times before Ruth suggested, "How about some cake?"

The frosting was chocolate. They managed to navigate the paper plates without spilling the thick slices onto the shag carpet, which already needed a good shampooing.

"So, Aaron," said Samuel, and hesitated.

"He knows you're coming," Ruth assured him. "He wants to see you. He'll be here eventually."

But even after she'd served dinner and the boys were in the bathtub and they were on their third beer, there was still no sign of Aaron. Samuel stood up from the couch with an apologetic sigh.

"I've got to get going. We can try again soon?"

"Yeah, of course." Ruth hugged him. "I'll tell him you came by. Thanks for the book."

The house was quiet and the boys were long asleep by the time Aaron came straggling in, smelling strongly of weed and pointedly ignoring Ruth's glare. He tossed a box on the table.

"What's that?" she said.

"It's a birthday cake. Can't I get my kid a birthday cake?"

"Uh, no. I made Noah a cake already, just like I've always made one for Timmy." She opened the box and made a face at the over-frosted surface. "We ate it with dinner. You missed my brother."

Aaron grunted. "Why would I want to see that faggot?"

"Because he's my brother and you promised to be nice."

"I told you, I had a gig."

 **On your own son's birthday?** she wanted to say. But the mood he was in, that would probably end badly for her. So she just put the cake box on top of the fridge and went to bed. A week later, long after Aaron had forgotten about the cake, she threw the box away.


	12. Finn and Blaine's Date Night 1

_(Author's note: It's Finn and Blaine's date night. Knittycat99 and I wrote most of this scene back in 2012, when we were just starting to envision the Finn/Blaine relationship in the Donutverse. It's both painful and pleasing to see it finally come into play. Warning for m/m sex and major angst. -amy)_

* * *

"You sure we have the house to ourselves?" Finn frowned as he followed Blaine up the familiar curve of the stairs and down the hall into Blaine's room.

"Yeah," Blaine said, nodding for Finn to drop his duffle just inside the door. "My dad and Thomas went away for the weekend. I think it's some last chance to try and fix the mess my dad made of things."

"Okay." Finn closed the door behind him, then reached out to grab Blaine's wrist. They both sucked in a breath, turning to face one another. Every time they touched was electric. Even after a month together like this, Finn still wasn't used to it.

Blaine let his eyes fall so that they were slightly downcast. "He won't be back until Sunday," he said.

Finn tilted Blaine's chin back up. He smiled, watching Blaine's cheeks flush.

"Good," Finn murmured. "That's good, because I have plans for us."

Blaine peeked around him at the bag on the floor, and his eyes lit up. "What did you bring?"

Finn chuckled lightly, ran a hand down Blaine's jaw. "My boy's getting greedy, huh?"

"N-no, sir," Blaine whispered. "Not greedy. Just. Um. Excited? _Happy_?"

"Happy is good," Finn said. "We'll play in a little while. First I want to do this." He settled a hand on each side of Blaine's head and brought their lips together.

Kissing Blaine was still new, and Finn felt like he was still learning what got Blaine to respond. So far, Finn knew that nipping at his bottom lip would make Blaine arch his body closer into Finn, and that a firm tongue was a good thing. He knew he'd learn the rest, over time, but summer was already over. It felt some days like their time was running out.

 _If only we hadn't wasted so much time being scared of this,_ he thought.

"Stop thinking," Blaine said with a light laugh, pressing his forehead into Finn's chest.

"How did you know I was thinking?"

"You stopped kissing me. Please, don't stop kissing me." Blaine moved closer, stood on his tiptoes. He tried to reach up high enough to kiss Finn, but Finn grabbed Blaine's wrists and held them tight.

"I got what I wanted. Are you ready to take what I give you?" He kept his voice steady, even as he felt his desire spike.

"Yes, sir." Blaine shifted as best he could into the rest position Finn had taught him that day in Carl's office, and Finn smiled in approval.

"Good boy. Would you like to see what I brought with me?"

"Yes, please, sir."

Finn opened his duffel and pulled out the handcuffs first. Blaine's eyes were round and sparkling, watching him put the cuffs aside. Finn knew there was very little about the things they did together that scared Blaine anymore. Blaine went down easy, now that he knew how Finn wanted him to do it. He knew Finn would take care of him, keep him safe while he was down. The scary things were the feelings that sometimes overwhelmed him in the aftermath, but Finn liked to think that he was getting better at taking care of Blaine then, too, when he was still fuzzy from the submission and the sex, when the rest of the world was just too much.

"We haven't used this yet," Finn said, running the tails of the suede flogger over his hands. "You know this one is Kurt's favorite. He told me he thought you'd like it. He _told_ me to use it on you tonight."

Blaine moaned deep in his chest. He could feel his own response, powerful and immediate, but he could also hear Kurt's voice in his head. _Don't rush. Let him anticipate it. Enjoy it, both of you._

He took a deep breath, set the flogger on Blaine's desk, and picked up the cuffs again. "These, first." Finn buckled one around each wrist, giving each one a sharp tug to make them tight, and Blaine gasped each time, smiling up at Finn with such trust and love.

Blaine began to move into position, with his hands behind his back, but Finn stopped him, pressing him down onto the bed on his back. "I want you like this," he said. "Just like this. I want to look into your eyes when I fuck you."

"Oh, _god_ ," Blaine half-sighed, half-moaned. Finn thought that maybe, if he hadn't already been on the bed, that Blaine's knees would have buckled. He could feel Blaine's wanting, could feel the energy from Blaine's body mirrored in his own.

Finn stretched Blaine's wrists to the corners of the bed before looping a length of chain around each bedpost, attaching the hooks on Blaine's cuffs to the chain. There was very little room to move, and Blaine lay flat, stretched out before him, so perfectly open.

"You're so beautiful, baby," Finn said tenderly, touching his shoulders, his arms, the smooth stretch of skin under his arm down to his hip, then along the ridge of his cock. Blaine knew well enough to hold still and as calm as possible under Finn's hand, but he couldn't resist one thrust into Finn's touch at the end. Finn smiled again, shaking his head. "Not yet. I have plans for you."

Blaine shook his head, curls flying around around him. "Need you, Finn. _Please_."

"Oh, don't worry, baby. You'll get me. I'm gonna make you feel so good." Finn kissed the tip of Blaine's nose, which made them both smile, and then Finn began moving down Blaine's body, kissing and licking and dragging his teeth over what felt like miles and miles of bare skin. Just like kissing, he was still learning the best places to touch to make Blaine shift and press underneath him, but he was already very very fond of the flat little area above Blaine's right hip, where the bone jutted out a little bit. Apparently a nicely timed application of tongue and teeth right there was enough to send Blaine writhing, and Finn sometimes got a little obsessed with things like that. It was fun, making Blaine respond that way.

"Finn," he gasped, his hands clenching, trapped in their cuffs, as Finn licked a long, wet swath from his navel to the base of his cock. "You... please, I _want..."_

"What you want doesn't matter right now," Finn said, gripping his hips. "I'm going to take what's mine."

"Yours," Blaine sighed, almost defeated. "I'm yours."

"Yes," Finn growled in the moment before he took Blaine in his mouth. " _Mine_."

Blaine tried to push into Finn's mouth, but Finn pressed his hands hard against Blaine's hips and worked his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking hard the way he knew Blaine liked until Blaine was trembling and incoherent. He tasted hints of salt, knew that Blaine was so close to coming, but he couldn't let that happen. He pulled off, and settled between Blaine's thighs, pushing his legs open.

" _Finn_ ," Blaine whined. 'Don't stop. So close."

" _I'm_ in charge here, _boy_. _I'll_ tell you when to come, understand?"

Blaine nodded, and Finn fumbled for the lube he'd tossed onto the bed. When he was slick and ready, he pressed the tip of his cock against Blaine, and got ready.

"I'm going to fuck you now, baby, and you're going to come when I tell you."

"Yes." Blaine opened his eyes and stared up at Finn. Finn held his gaze as he pushed inside.

"Now, Blaine. Come now. Come for me, baby, you know you want to. _I_ want you to." He kept talking as he slid all the way inside of Blaine, and when he had bottomed out he felt Blaine clenching around him. He didn't move, just stayed where he was and let Blaine come all over his stomach.

"God, Finn." Blaine's body relaxed. "That was . . . wow."

Finn chuckled. "That was just the beginning, baby. I'm going to fuck you until you're hard again, and then we're going to come together."

"Oh." Finn moved his hips, sliding almost all the way out and then back into Blaine again, slow and hard and just the way Blaine liked it.

"Yes," he said, holding Blaine's gaze. "And then, I'm going to turn you over and use that flogger on you until you come _again_ , just from the sensation of it."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't think I can do that. I think you might kill me with orgasms."

Finn stopped moving, suddenly serious. "Do you trust me, baby?"

"Of course."

"Then just . . . trust me. I won't hurt you. And I don't care if you don't get there. We'll just, I dunno. Have fun trying, I guess."

Blaine smiled, and it lit up his whole face. "I like trying."

"That's my good boy." Finn kissed Blaine then, and slammed into him again. And again and again until they were both writhing and mumbly and Finn could barely order Blaine to come a second time.

But he did, and _they_ did, together, laughing and happy.

"Messy," Blaine said, a little hazy-eyed before Finn could collapse on top of him.

"I'll get a washcloth." Finn gazed down at Blaine, and ran a hand up one of his arms to the leather of the cuff. "You okay, baby?"

"Mmmm. Yes."

"Do you want me to uncuff you?" Finn would, if Blaine wanted, but he kind of liked seeing his boy all stretched out and languid that way.

"No," Blaine sighed as his eyes fluttered closed. "Thirsty."

"Here," Finn pulled the comforter up around Blaine. "Let me go get us some juice and a snack."

Finn slipped into his shorts and padded down to the kitchen. He knew there was always juice in the fridge, which was great because Blaine usually got really jittery after both discipline and sex, and the juice helped bring his blood sugar back up. He poured two glasses, and tucked a bag of ginger snaps under his arm. He would have preferred something chocolate, but whatever. The cookies would have to do.

Back in Blaine's room, he tucked pillows under Blaine's head and held his glass so that he could sip at his juice. "Cookie?" he asked, holding one out for Blaine and popping one into his own mouth.

"No," Blaine said, letting his head slide back onto the mountain of pillows. "Just you."

"Okay," Finn mumbled through a mouthful of cookie crumbs.

He set the bag on the floor and Blaine's glass on the nightstand before climbing over Blaine so that he could wrap around his boy's body. He held Blaine tightly, stroked his hair and pressed gentle kisses along his jaw.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, like this? God, baby. You just give and give to me, all the time."

"You _take_ ," Blaine whispered. "I had no idea I needed that. Puck... he taught me that, about myself."

"Yeah," Finn said, emotion sudden and thick in his throat. "Neither did I, that I needed to take it." He shook his head, amused. "He taught me that about myself, too. It's good, right?"

"Oh, god, Finn. It's _everything_. It's exactly right." Blaine burrowed his head into Finn's chest and sighed happily. "We didn't get to the flogger, though," he said with a little laugh.

"We have plenty of time, baby. Rest, now." Finn unclipped the chain from Blaine's cuffs, releasing him from the hard restraint but leaving the cuffs around Blaine's wrists. He rested a hand over Blaine's chest, felt his heart beating there, steady and strong, and his breaths slowing and evening out.

"That's right," he said. "Sleep now, my baby."

* * *

Finn didn't sleep so much as he moved in and out of dreams, checking on Blaine every time he woke to be sure he was okay. Blaine, however, slept hard, and Finn hated to wake him but it was getting toward dinner time and he knew that Blaine would be ravenous before too long.

He tried gentle whispers and nudges with his knee, then a shoulder, then his hand firm on Blaine's chest. "Blaine, baby. C'mon. Time to wake up."

"Mphf. Hungry." Blaine opened one eye and peered at Finn. "Hi."

 _God._ Finn couldn't suppress his grin. Blaine was entirely too adorable when he was waking up. "Hi. You're hungry, huh?"

Blaine smiled and arched his hips a little, poking his half-hard cock into Finn's thigh. "Yeah. And not just for dinner."

"Really." Finn rolled his eyes. "Food first. Then more sex."

Blaine's eyes drifted over to his desk, where the flogger was still draped over his stack of summer reading books. "Food first. Then _that_."

"As you wish, baby." Finn leaned down anyway, and kissed Blaine full and hard. Blaine kissed back, and even though Finn knew that it was a bad idea, he climbed over Blaine's body and just rutted against him. Blaine met him thrust for thrust, a little sloppy and both of them still hazy, and Finn was this close to coming when —

There was suddenly someone else in the room with them.

"Blaine Darren Anderson. What the _hell_ is this?"

Blaine went completely limp under Finn. The whimpering noise that came from his mouth was nothing short of terrified.

Finn closed his eyes and rolled off of Blaine. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled under his breath. When he felt Blaine jerk away, he added quickly, "No, no, baby, I'm not mad at you."

He pulled the blanket up and regretfully turned his gaze to the man who had to be Blaine's father, taking a deep breath.

"Mr. Anderson," Finn said. He could feel dread settling into the pit of his stomach. Superficially, the man did look like Blaine, but the outraged expression on his face, the contemptuous look in his eyes — he'd never seen anything like that from his boy.

"Who the hell are you?" Mr. Anderson demanded. "Because I've met _Puck_ , and you're not him."

"No," Finn shook his head. "I'm Finn Hudson. I think this is a conversation we need to have on equal footing. Can you give us a minute to get dressed?" He was shaking, but he knew he needed to stay calm for Blaine.

Mr. Anderson rubbed a hand over his face and looked all over the room _but_ at the two of them. When his gaze landed on the flogger, still on Blaine's desk, his face went white. "What- this- _no_ , Blaine. _This_ is unacceptable."

"Mr. Anderson." Finn pulled out his Voice. "Please. Blaine needs a minute to get dressed. We'll meet you downstairs."

Blaine's father blinked at him, and took a step back towards the door. "Yes. Downstairs."

"Thank you," Finn said, and he waited until Mr. Anderson was out into the hall and the door was closed again before he gathered Blaine into his arms.

"It's okay, baby," Finn said. "It's going to be okay."

"No," Blaine mumbled over and over. "It's _not_ going to be okay. This is going to be so, so bad."

* * *

Finn wanted to hold Blaine's hand. He wanted to do more than that; he wanted to hug Blaine close, to keep him calm and safe. But Blaine was perched, awkward and tense, on the edge of one of the overstuffed, too-elegant armchairs in the living room. Finn sat just as awkwardly on the sofa, doing what Kurt always called _practicing calm_.

Mr. Anderson paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, shifting a glass of scotch from hand to hand and taking an occasional sip. He looked like he barely had a handle on his temper.

"I don't know if you understand what you're playing at, Blaine." Mr. Anderson set his glass on the mantle and swung his eyes from Blaine to Finn. "If _either_ of you understand what you're playing at."

Finn watched Blaine startle, and he couldn't stand it any longer. He motioned for Blaine to join him, and they both sighed with relief when Blaine moved from the chair into the space next to Finn on the couch. Blaine started to speak, but Finn squeezed his hand. _I've got this, baby_ , he tried to say without words.

"We're not playing at anything," Finn said.

Mr. Anderson laughed without humor. "Like hell you're not. You're _sixteen year old boys_ , for Christ's sake. Your whole _lives_ are playing."

"It's not-" he started, and then took a breath. He felt like shouting, but he was not going to do that. "We're not, Mr. Anderson. _I'm_ not. There's nothing to play _at_. This is what Blaine needs."

Blaine's father stared at them both. "He doesn't _need_ to cheat on his boyfriend, or be with someone who . . . who _hurts_ him."

"Finn isn't hurting me," Blaine spoke for the first time. "And I'm not cheating on Puck." Even those words cost him something to say. Finn could feel him shaking. He tucked his arm around Blaine, holding him closer. It didn't help calm the shaking, but Finn felt better, being close to him.

"Puck and me," Finn began. "We're together. And Blaine is a part of things, too." He didn't want to drag Kurt into the middle of things.

"The- um. The . . . _implement_? On the desk? Blaine, please. Tell me you didn't let anyone _do anything_ to you with it." Mr. Anderson sounded desperate; he was almost begging, and Finn had to bite his tongue to keep from telling him to _stop that, right now_.

Blaine blushed red to the tips of his ears, but still he didn't back down. "Not that one, no. But one like it."

Finn leaned over to whisper into Blaine's ear. "Filter, baby. I can't help you if you dig yourself into a hole here."

Blaine just shook his head regretfully. "I know," he whispered back, "but when he asks, I — I have to tell him the truth." He looked up at his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I know you don't understand. But Puck and Finn, we- I-"

Finn heard the tears in Blaine's voice before they started falling from his eyes. He turned a little so that he could wrap both his arms around Blaine and tuck him into the curve of his body. Finn rested his chin on top of Blaine's head and tried not to glare at Mr. Anderson.

"Blaine's given this a lot of thought," he said. "He's not being talked into anything he doesn't want to do. School's tough for him. He works hard, but it's hard to stay focused, and -"

"Blaine does perfectly well at school," Mr. Anderson said stiffly, not looking directly at Finn, "when he's not being distracted from his studies. Blaine, you told us Dalton was going to help you. I didn't expect you to meet boys like _this,_ there."

"I'm not from Dalton," Finn assured him, then paused. Maybe it would be better if he didn't know _where_ he was from, exactly. And Mr. Anderson didn't need to know about Jeff, at all. "He needs someone to give him some direction. Something to focus on."

"And that's _you,_ eh?" His distaste was evident as he looked Finn up and down. Finn could guess what he saw, from his cheap sneakers to his off-brand polo shirt. It was a little uncomfortable being sized up like that, but considering Blaine's father had just seen him naked on top of his son, he wasn't going to begrudge his own choice of clothing. " _You're_ going to tell Blaine what he needs to focus on?"

Blaine's brow wrinkled in consternation. "It's not like that, Dad..."

"Blaine's right," Finn said, rubbing a slow circle on Blaine's back. "He doesn't need me to tell him what to do, because he already wants to do the right things. I just… kind of _remind_ him, of what the best choices are."

"By hurting him?" Mr. Anderson's face was disbelieving.

"Finn doesn't _hurt_ me. I mean, yeah, okay. It hurts. But afterwards?" He looked hard at his father, trying to find the words. "God. Afterwards, it's like my head is clear and I can think again."

"Clear? I don't understand. Clear from what?"

Blaine threw his hands in the air. "Clear from all the utter _shit_ that makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide, okay? All the crap that I carry around, every day."

His father looked completely baffled. "What are you talking about? I know you. You're a happy, well-adjusted boy, Blaine. You're safe at Dalton. You're getting the best education. Do you know the strings I had to pull just to get you in there last year? For crying out loud, you're only _sixteen._ What could you possibly have to be worried about?"

Blaine looked up at his father desperately, close to the edge of panic, and bit his tongue. He could have said, _oh, I don't know, maybe I'm worried about what happened when I was fourteen and I had the living shit beat out of me? Or about you and Thomas, how you seem to be close to breaking up? Or the fact that you've been secretly gay all my life and you didn't tell me this when I needed someone to help me understand myself? Or how about the way I've never been good enough for you, no matter how hard I try or how well I do in school?_ But he didn't say anything.

If Finn had wanted to wrap him up and protect Blaine before, the urge was doubly hard now. He let Blaine keep holding tight to his hand, like it was his only tether to the moment.

Mr. Anderson looked back and forth between the two of them, and his face hardened. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, boys," he said, and he actually did sound sorry. "But I know what's best for Blaine, and this _definitely_ isn't it. You're going to need to leave, Finn."

He rounded on Blaine, pointing one finger. "And _you_ , young man... this is going to end _now._ School is about your studies, not about irresponsible extracurricular activities. You're going to represent our family appropriately. So - no more boys. No more... _anything._ I don't care what you think this does for you, or what kind of _focus_ you get out of it. If you need that kind of focus, you can talk to my psychiatrist."

"No!" Finn shouted, putting one hand on Blaine's chest. "He doesn't need drugs!" _He needs me,_ he thought miserably, but he knew there was no way Mr. Anderson was going to hear him.

"Blaine is done with you," Mr. Anderson said, his mouth one thin, firm line. "You will leave. _Now."_

Blaine stared at Finn in horror, but when his father reached out to take his arm, he just let him lead him away, without one word of complaint. Finn grappled with his twin instincts to take care of Blaine and listen to the voice of authority, but in the end, he just sat there, watching Mr. Anderson take him up the stairs. He heard a door slam, and the enormous, sterile house was silent.

"Blaine," Finn said, but nobody was listening.

He stood. His hands were shaking, and he didn't know what to do with them, so he settled on shoving them into his pockets and came up with his car keys. He stared at them.

Mr. Anderson's footsteps were almost silent when he came back into the room, Finn's duffel bag hanging loosely in one hand. "Here are your things. You can be sure I'll be talking to the school tomorrow; Blaine will be monitored to ensure no further contact with you, or that boy, Puck. If you try to talk with him or see him, I _will_ find out, and you can be sure I'll be calling your parents."

"There's just my mother," he said, his lips feeling numb and clumsy, "and she knows everything. You really don't understand him, or _this_ , at all." Finn shook the confusion away, facing Mr. Anderson again. "I don't care about what you could do to me. All I care about is what you're doing to Blaine. And you're _killing_ him, by taking away everything that makes him real."

Mr. Anderson shook his head. "Blaine will return to school and focus on his studies, as befits an Anderson. I'm not going to let some stupid notions about sexual exploration ruin his reputation. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. You kids have _no_ idea what you're doing here, how one mistake can ruin _everything._ " He glared at Finn. "Someday he'll thank me."

"No, he won't." Finn wasn't sure if he should be saying all this to Mr. Anderson, but he wasn't sure he could stop, either. "If he manages to stay sane through whatever punishments you think are going to help, he's _not_ going to thank you. He's just going to be more broken than he was when I met him. It's going to take me, or someone like me, a lot longer than a few months to put him back together."

"Cut the melodrama, kid," Mr. Anderson snapped. "Blaine doesn't need _you_ or anybody else to tell him who he is. He's got five generations of strong, powerful men to back him up. He's -"

"Blaine _is_ strong," Finn insisted, interrupting. "If you saw him the way I do, or- _god_ , if you saw him _at all_ , you'd know that. He just- _he_ doesn't see it, about himself, yet. But he will. Someday, someone will love him enough and he'll start to know that." _I already love him enough. We all do._ ** _We_** _could show Blaine the best parts of himself, if only you would let us._

Mr. Anderson's face was scornful. "Love has nothing to do with it. I love my son, and you have no right to come into _my_ home and try to tell me that I'm hurting him by being his _father!"_

Mr. Anderson tried to throw his weight forward, but Finn, who was a good two inches taller, stood his ground. "Somebody has to. I can't see him treated like this."

"You won't have to," said Mr. Anderson with a triumphant smile. "You're forbidden from ever seeing him again."

Finn felt like a part of him was breaking off and sliding away. "If you cared about him at all, you wouldn't do this. _You're_ the one who's _hurting him_."

Mr. Anderson's hand was on his arm, and he was trying to steer Finn toward the door. Finn shook his hand off.

"Don't touch me. I'm going, okay? I'm… I'm going."

He picked up his bag and made his way to the door on shaky legs. When he stepped onto the front step, he had to grip the railing to hold himself up while his knees threatened to buckle. Mr. Anderson didn't say anything, just shut the door behind him.

It took Finn a few moments to manage the stone steps down to his car, waiting in the driveway. He slid the key into the ignition. Then he leaned his head back against the headrest, trying to get his breathing under control. None of Carl's tricks seemed to be working. He suspected he might be going into shock, but he didn't know what he could he do other than wait.

Finally he fished his phone out of his bag and scrolled through his contacts, observing the shaking of his own hands with a sense of disconnection. He pressed dial, and hoped that on this particular Friday night, Jeff didn't have a date.

 _"Finn?"_ he heard on the other end. _"Haven't heard from you in a few weeks. How's your fall going? Everything okay, man?"_

"Shit, Jeff. No. _Nothing_ is okay. We have . . . _fuck."_ Finn pounded his fist on the steering wheel. "Blaine's dad found out. About _everything._ He's not gonna let Blaine see us anymore. It's _bad._ I mean, it's bad for me, but you know how it's going to be for Blaine."

 _"Oh, man. Hang on, Finn."_ He listened while Jeff whispered to someone, and then there were footsteps and a door creaking closed. " _Okay, I'm good to talk now. Where are you?"_

"Sitting in my car in front of Blaine's house. Can't drive, dude." Finn let out a harsh laugh.

 _"Need me to come get you? I'm about 20 minutes away. We can go down to Java the Hut for coffee, until you're ready to go home."_ Jeff's voice was full of concern, and his kindness made Finn want to say _yes, please, take me someplace where people understand us_. But he _had_ someone who understood, he just needed to be capable enough to _get_ there.

"No, I just. Shit. I need you to- to-"

 _"You need me to take care of him until you can figure things out, yeah?"_

"Yeah." He sighed, rubbing his head where the headache was just beginning. "I know it's asking a lot."

 _"No, Finn. I care about Blaine. He's a good friend, and he needs what you give him. Of course I'll help. Are you sure you're okay?"_

"No." Finn shook his head, even though Jeff couldn't see him. "I'm not okay. But I have to _get_ okay. I have to- I have to go home. I have to see C- um. My, uh."

 _"Your Dom?"_

Finn had never told Jeff about Carl, but Jeff was a pretty knowledgeable guy. He understood the dynamics that could exist in the scene, and nothing much seemed to bother him.

"Yeah," Finn sighed. "Even if he doesn't have any ideas, he needs to know. He'll, um. He'll help me deal."

 _"That's good. Good that you have someone. You need to take care of yourself too, Finn, so that once we fix this mess you'll be able to take care of Blaine."_

"Yeah. I know. It was just . . . it was so bad, Jeff. Blaine completely lost it. Started yelling at his dad. We tried to explain, we both did. It was like his dad didn't even hear us." Finn felt his eyes fill with tears, but he sniffed them back and swallowed hard. He couldn't lose it yet.

 _"You did just fine, Finn. Mr. Anderson is a particular kind of hard-ass. I don't know that you could have said anything to make him change his mind."_

He wiped his eyes on the corner of his shirt. "I guess... my mom, she's so awesome - I mean, really, man, she's got her own history and everything - and Kurt's dad, he's practically got the award for Best Dad of the year wrapped up. I just forgot, somehow, that other people's parents could be..." He swallowed. "Like that."

 _"I'm pretty lucky, too. I mean, my dad's pretty conservative, but he's been dealing with my sister and her life for years. His mind is a lot more open than it used to be. I don't honestly think he'd care, now, if I came out to him about anything. But Blaine? He's already had such a hard go of it. I wish it didn't have to be like this for him. Did his dad say what was going to happen?"_

Finn leaned forward against the steering wheel, resting his head on his arms. "Back to Dalton as soon as the dorms open. He's gonna call someone, to make sure that Blaine doesn't see me, or Puck. Or talk to us or anything."

 _"Okay."_ Jeff was silent for a minute, and Finn could almost _hear_ his brain working. _"Okay. So. Do you think his dad would let him talk to me, if I called?"_

Finn snorted. "As long as your name isn't Finn or Puck, I think you'll be fine."

 _"Good. Are you okay to drive?"_ Jeff's voice was even, with next to no intensity behind his words, but he was still making Finn relax.

"Yeah. I think so. If I get on the road and I'm not, I'll pull over until I can go again."

 _"All right. I'll call Blaine, talk with him if I can, and I'll drop you an email with my plan. I'll have to make some calls of my own tomorrow, and I don't want to interrupt your time with your Dom. You need him tonight."_

"Yeah." Finn sighed, thinking about the ways Carl would be able to help him. "I do need him. Thanks, Jeff. For everything."

 _"No worries, man. And I'm here, if you need anything. Any time of the night, really."_

Finn took a breath and turned the key in the ignition. "I believe that," he said before telling Jeff goodnight and putting the car in gear.

He didn't look anywhere other than right in front of him. He didn't see Blaine, watching from his bedroom window.


	13. Finn and Blaine's Date Night 2

_(Author's note: Continued angst warning, along with m/m/m sex, Dom/sub turnabout and handballing (anal fisting). -amy)_

* * *

Blaine stood there watching and waiting for what felt like an eternity until Finn started his car and pulled out of the driveway. He'd hoped that Finn would have fought harder, because Blaine hadn't been able to fight at all once his father steered him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

It felt like winter all over again, like he was suddenly untethered and adrift. He had no idea how to be _that_ Blaine anymore. What he got from Finn, the way he was with Puck and Kurt, it was like he was his best self, and maybe he was a little bit in shock but he couldn't even begin to see how to move forward alone.

"Blaine?" His father opened his door without knocking. "You have a phone call. Someone named Jeff, said he's in the Warblers with you."

"Yes." Blaine quickly wiped his eyes before turning from the window.

His father held out Blaine's cell phone, which he'd taken along with Finn's things. "You may talk for five minutes. I'll be back to get the phone when your time's up."

Blaine tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear and waited until his dad had closed the door. "Christ, Jeff. It's a mess," he began before Jeff could say a word.

 _"Yeah. Finn called me. Are you going to be okay for the night?"_

Blaine sighed bitterly. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

 _"No, you really don't."_ Jeff paused. _"Do you want me to come get you?"_

"That would be awesome, but I don't think I need to give my dad any more reasons to want to lock me in a tower. I suspect school is the only way I'm leaving this house."

 _"I'll see you on Sunday. But Blaine, I promised Finn I'd look out for you. Do you think . . . I mean, I think Trey and I should switch, so I can be your roommate."_

Blaine thought about how it had been at the end of last year, knowing that he could rely on Jeff when he needed direction and focus. Blaine sighed and closed his eyes. "I think- I think I might need that."

 _"Okay. I'll make some calls and get it set up. You can, I don't know, tell your dad you need to be back early on Sunday because you're helping me mentor the new Warblers. I mean, as lead soloist it's part of your job. It's the next best thing to being on the Council."_

Blaine flopped onto his bed. The sheets were still rumpled, and Blaine could smell Finn and sex, and it made him cry all over again.

 _"Oh, babe, you're not okay."_ Jeff's voice was full of concern.

"No," Blaine sniffled. "Not okay."

Blaine's door opened again, and his father was holding out his hand for the phone. "Tell Jeff it's time to go."

"I gotta go," he repeated doggedly.

 _"Blaine, wait. Just hold on, okay? For tonight. You're not alone. Finn's working on things on his end. We'll figure this out."_

"Okay," Blaine sighed, afraid to say anything else. "Bye."

He ended the call and closed his phone, handing it over to his father in silence.

"How's your friend?"

"Fine." It was an automatic response, but he wasn't giving his father any more than that. He took a breath and let it out. "I have to go back early on Sunday. Since I'm lead soloist, I need to help with the new Warblers."

His father _tsk_ ed, crossing his arms. "They can't do it without you?"

"It's part of my responsibilities. I should take care of it myself."

"Well, I think your escapades this weekend proved that you _can't_ take care of yourself, so until I say otherwise, the rules are as follows: no Internet except for school work, and no phone calls from any of those boys. I'll be screening your phone before you can talk to anyone while you're here, and when you get back to school, I'm blocking their numbers from your account."

Blaine just nodded and turned back to the window, already feeling numb. Even though Finn was long gone, Blaine had an irrational hope that he'd see him there, maybe standing under the trees with a boombox in some grand romantic gesture.

"You said you needed structure, Blaine." His father's voice softened. "I don't know of another way to give you that."

The fear and sadness threatened to overwhelm him. He forced himself to look up at his father. "Let me keep seeing Finn," he pleaded. "He knows _exactly_ what I need."

"No. Not an option. That boy, what the two of you were doing together? That kind of thing can ruin your life." His father jammed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe.

"But… Dad, you don't understand. What Finn and I do _saved_ my life." Blaine had run out of words. He just stood there, waiting, willing his father to understand, but all his father did was shake his head and walk to the door.

"I understand all too well. You can't play games with this business. It'll wreck your reputation, and when you're an Anderson, your reputation is all you have." He gave Blaine a hard look. "You don't have to agree. You just have to obey. If you try to see Finn or Puck again, I'll send you to another school. I don't mean one in Ohio. I mean out of the country. Do you understand? No contact. _You don't know them."_

Blaine sat there, feeling caught by the command, hardly able to breathe.

 _"_ I'm waiting, Blaine."

He swallowed his tears and nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

His father closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Blaine alone. Blaine went back to his bed and lay down, waiting for the tears, for some kind of emotional release, but neither one came.

Finn wasn't here to take care of him. Puck wouldn't be coming anymore. _None_ of them would be here anymore. He was going to have to save himself, now — the only way he knew how.

* * *

The drive home wasn't the worst thing Finn had ever done, but it was definitely in the top ten. He had to stop twice to pull over, once because he thought he might hyperventilate, and the second because he had to forcibly remove his phone from his hand before he tried calling Blaine. He ended up sitting on it for the last forty minutes of the drive back to Lima, and through town to the west side, up the winding road to Carl's neighborhood.

The spot around the back of the garage that had always housed Angela's car was occupied with Ms. Pillsbury's, and that was just about enough to provoke another bout of anxious tears. He parked two blocks down the street and walked, just as he'd always done, because his car couldn't be seen in Carl's driveway. Finn was amazed he was thinking clearly enough to consider that, because the only thing running through his head was: _he's all alone, in that awful house, and I left him there._

Ms. Pillsbury found him on the porch, shivering in the heat of the August evening. She looked startled, and well she might, seeing as how Finn hadn't been there in weeks.

"Finn?" she said.

"I have to see Carl," he said, gritting his teeth. "I... I _have to."_

He didn't volunteer any more information, and she didn't ask. She just took his hand and led him into the study where Carl was working, no announcement or anything. Carl took one look and pushed the chair back from his desk, knocking over his coffee in his haste to get to Finn. None of them stopped to clean it up.

"Finn," he said.

That one word was enough to set him off. He stumbled into Carl's arms, blubbering incoherently, because, god, he _knew_ it wasn't going to be okay. This was worse than it had been when Puck went away, because at least Puck had gone to be with people who loved him. Blaine was _alone._

Carl took him to the couch and made calming, shushing noises. He stroked his hair and held him while he cried and shook, and didn't even bother to try to ask him to make any kind of sense.

"I'm here," he crooned, rocking him a little, and usually that would have pissed Finn off, but right now it was just about the only thing he wanted. "You're okay."

"No, I'm not," he sobbed. "And Blaine... he's not either, and I can't do _anything."_

"Tell me about Blaine. What happened?" Carl tightened his arms around Finn, and Finn didn't fight him. Maybe if Carl held him tight enough, he'd stop aching.

"We were supposed to be okay. His dad was supposed to be gone until Sunday, only he _wasn't_ gone until Sunday, and it _wasn't_ okay." Finn started crying again, at the thought of Blaine letting his father lead him out of the living room, how lost and helpless he'd looked.

"Oh, god," Carl muttered. "All right — okay, Finn, just sit up a little here. I want you to tell me, is Blaine safe? Do you think his father's going to —"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." He sniffed, trying to calm down enough to speak rationally. "But he told Blaine he couldn't - that Puck, and I, that we couldn't - couldn't _ever - "_ Finn swallowed the next sob. "He's going back to Dalton, and that's... that's it. We're done."

"Was it..." Carl gave him a measured look. "Does he know, what you do for Blaine?"

Finn nodded. "We _tried_ to explain. But we just couldn't make him understand that Blaine _needs_ that." He was getting frustrated and angry all over again, thinking about it. "This is going to break him, sir. He's going to be worse than he was back in January, and I can't help him."

Carl took his hands and held them. "Finn. We'll solve this. We will. But - not tonight. Tonight you need..." He stopped, and took a deep breath. "Where are your boys tonight? Are they home?"

"What? Um. No," he shook his head. "It's their date night. They went down to Dayton, to Masque."

"Ah." Carl nodded. "Well."

"I have to call my mom," Finn said.

Carl pulled him in against his chest again, holding him close. "Emma will take care of that. You're welcome to stay tonight. That's not an invitation to... anything. But my house is open to you, Finn, if you need a place to be, and... I would feel better, knowing you're not alone."

"Carl's right," came a soft voice from the doorway. Finn opened his eyes through tears, and saw Ms. Pillsbury still standing there, watching Finn in Carl's arms. "You shouldn't be alone."

"Uh... Miss P..." Finn leaned back from Carl, feeling panicked. "This isn't what it -"

"It's okay, Finn," Carl said, giving him some space, but keeping his hand on Finn's knee. "It's just as we talked about this summer. You can be truthful with her about what you need."

"I don't- jeez. I don't need anything. I just — _shit_." Tears pricked his eyes again.

"This is about Patrick?" She smiled sadly at him, but she also looked a little uncomfortable, like she wasn't sure what to do with a student showing up at _her_ boyfriend's house on a weekend.

"You've seen us play together in the band," Finn tried to explain. "But he's also my, um. My boyfriend."

"He's your _boy,_ Finn," Carl said gently.

He glanced up at Ms. Pillsbury. He must have made some signal with his eyes, because she came around to the couch and sat across from the two of them. She looked even more terrified for a moment, but then she nodded, her hands fluttering in her lap.

"Okay," she murmured. "That's - okay. Yes. And is that a new development? Because I believe at school I saw you were dating... Rachel?"

Finn could barely think to form coherent words about the situation with Rachel. "Yeah. Right. Rachel. This is- it's separate from her. Patrick's dad caught us tonight, and now we're not gonna be able to see each other, and I can't take care of him, and he needs it so badly. We both do."

Emma nodded, looking troubled. "That sounds terrible, Finn. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to have to have that conversation with your... boy's father. I don't think I could do that." She looked at Carl for permission, and when he nodded, she rose to her feet. "I'm going to go to bed. The two of you take all the time you need." She made a little determined nod with her head, not quite a bow, then exited the room, leaving them alone together. Finn looked helplessly at Carl.

"I really don't know why I came here," he said.

Carl nodded. With great care and deliberation, he reached out and touched Finn's knee again, watching his face the whole time as he did it. Finn felt his body respond instantly to the touch. He muffled a noise between tight lips.

"I think that's why you did," Carl said. "You were looking for somebody to tell you what to do."

"Maybe." Of course, Carl was right, but Finn could feel himself resisting Carl's lead, trying to hold onto the control he'd maintained all summer. "You're not going to tell me what to do."

"I thought I might try to help you figure it out for yourself." Carl's voice was mild. His hand, resting on Finn's knee, wasn't applying any pressure, but Finn thought it might be having a greater impact for all of that. "You have a lot to deal with here. Blaine's situation is only one part of it. I'm not intending to make it more complicated."

Finn scrubbed his hand over his face and blinked at Carl. "Sometimes it feels like there's just too much to handle. But I can't just act like you don't mean anything to me, because you do. And I..." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I _need_ you, okay?"

Carl's face trembled, and for a moment, Finn thought he could see behind the mask, where suddenly Carl was bubbling over with relief and frustration - and, overwhelming everything else, desire. But then he closed his eyes and took a short breath, and when he opened them, he was calm again. Finn wanted to cry _please, let me see you, just let me in._ But he couldn't say anything at all.

"That's... good news," Carl murmured. He reached out and took Finn's hand, and smiled at him. Carl's smiles packed a significant wallop. All Finn could do was smile back, helplessly.

Finn squeezed Carl's hand. "You think? Because I'm not... I mean... god. I don't think I'm thinking real clearly right now."

"No, it's good," Carl assured him. "Finn, you're the one in charge of so many other people. You have to think about how to take care of yourself. And if you know what you need, then you owe it to yourself to find a way to get that. It's part of being a responsible Top." He reached out and stroked the side of Finn's cheek.

It was such a simple gesture that Finn almost didn't react, but then he realized there were tears running down his face. He sniffled, and patted at his pockets trying to find his handkerchief, but Carl was quicker. He leaned in, wiping away the tears for him. Finn felt the flush of his skin like a blast furnace, and he found himself trembling with the effort not to react.

"I need -" he whispered. Then he launched himself forward into Carl's arms, pressing their lips together in desperation.

He worried for half an instant that Carl might push him away, but instead Carl's hand was strong on the back of Finn's head, keeping him close. Carl's mouth was hard and insistent, and Finn felt himself begin to crumble into pieces under its pressure.

"Yeah," he muttered, when he pulled away for a breath. "Yeah, let me…" He surged forward again, scrabbling with his hands to tug fruitlessly at Carl's belt. "Please. I _need—_ "

Carl set a hand on Finn's shoulder. "No," he said firmly. "I'm not the answer tonight."

He leaned back, his heart racing and his cock rock-hard. "But - but I -"

 _"Finn."_ Carl's Voice jolted Finn back to himself, and he stared at his lap, his face burning.

"Yes, sir."

"You need to call your boys and ask them to come home. They're who you need tonight." He took their joined hands and pulled Finn off the couch, encouraging him to follow. Finn stumbled after him, almost losing his balance.

"I don't think I can be by myself," he admitted. "I feel - I can't do this alone, sir, it's just too hard."

"You're not alone." Carl put a strong arm around his shoulder and guided him down the hall. "I'm right here, and I'm not letting you leave until I know you've got someone to watch over you."

"I can't do that to them," Finn sighed in frustration. " _I'm_ supposed to take care of _them_. I don't know how to ask them for that."

"You've done it before." Carl gave him a pointed look, and Finn had to nod, reluctantly. "They love you, and they're both capable of giving you what you need. You just have to ask. There's no shame in that." He took his own phone out of his pocket and touched the screen. "I'm calling Kurt."

Finn was surprised enough by the idea that Carl had Kurt's number stored in his phone that he didn't respond until it was too late. "Uh -"

"Kurt? It's Carl." They stopped in the hallway, and Finn watched him with mild trepidation. "Yes. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening with Puck. Finn has something he needs to ask you."

He held out the phone to Finn, who regarded it like Carl was instructing him to pick up the business end of a scorpion. Carl gave him a chiding look. "What did I tell you? You just have to _ask_ , Finn."

Finn sighed and took the phone. "Kurt?"

He could hear music in the background, and the thumping of the bass was heavy enough that he could feel it in his head even through the phone. _"I thought you were spending the night with Blaine. What's going on, Finn?"_ Kurt's voice was rising sharply.

"I'm... I can't say, not over the phone. Just, something bad happened. Please, baby. I need you and Puck to come home. I need - I need you guys to..." He glanced up at Carl desperately, and his voice shifted into a loud whisper. "To _take care of me_."

 _"Oh — yes. Okay. We'll leave right now. We can be home in an hour and a half."_

Carl was gesturing for Finn to hand the phone back to him, which Finn did without question. He put it back to his ear.

"Kurt, I'm going to keep Finn here with me until you and Puck get home. Why don't you call me back at this number when you hit the edge of town, and I'll send Finn home to you." He paused, then smiled, such a patient, loving smile that Finn had to look away. "Yes, he's safe. He's had a difficult night, but he'll be okay. Drive safely, Kurt. I'll talk to you soon."

Carl thumbed at the screen and disconnected the call, tucking the phone back into his pocket before taking Finn's hand again.

"Come with me, now. We'll be more comfortable in here."

Finn followed Carl the rest of the way down the hall to his own bedroom. Finn had half expected him to choose something in the other wing of the house, where there were rooms for scenes and equipped with beds and other furniture, all perfectly serviceable. But he felt an overwhelming sense of relief to see Carl's own furniture, to smell his own scents, to be back in the room where they'd spent so much time together earlier that year. It was so intense and raw that he started crying again, and this time he couldn't stop.

Carl didn't ask him to. He sat him on the edge of the bed and unfastened Finn's jeans, helping him take them off with gentle, clinical hands. He unbuttoned Finn's shirt the same way. Then he shed his own shirt and jeans, pulled the covers back and helped Finn lie down, cradling him from behind.

"I've got you," he said, holding him tight with one arm tucked over Finn's and the other tucked under. "You just go ahead and let it out."

The permission was too enticing to resist, and Finn let go, allowing the sobs to take over. They racked his body hard enough to make his head throb and his stomach clench, but he couldn't have prevented them if he'd tried. Through it all, he could hear Carl's patient whispers, feel the strength in his arms, the warmth of his chest against his back, and the persistent pressure of Carl's erection against his ass.

This last began to supersede all the others as his tears subsided, and he found himself moaning and thrusting back against Carl, not caring how ridiculous or desperate he sounded.

"Please," he begged.

"I'm here, Finn," said Carl, his voice tight. "You ask all you want. I'm just going to hold you. I know what you need."

"I need _you,"_ he said, and he could _hear_ the sound of his own voice, knew exactly what it implied, but he was too far gone to restrain himself.

"You need a good spanking, that's what you need," Carl said. He cinched his arms more firmly around Finn's, holding them down. "You're going to get it, too. But not tonight. Right now, this is what I can manage, without... " He let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a groan as Finn thrust back against him again. _"God_... without letting myself down."

That gave Finn pause, and he sighed, still tingling from head to toe, as hard as he'd ever remembered being, but feeling the weight of responsibility. "Okay, yeah," he muttered. "I know. And... I'm sorry."

"Not _your_ responsibility, Finn." Carl stroked one hand down his arm, and even that was almost too much stimulation. "You can be anything you need to be, right here. I'm not going to stop you from expressing your desires."

"Yeah, only your own." He tried not to sound bitter. "I get it."

He felt Carl's sigh more than he heard it. "Listen to me, my sweet boy. I'm _not_ going to let this be our next time. Not like this. You deserve... everything. Not a night of desperate fumbling. When we're ready, Finn, you can bet you're going to feel every bit of this energy we've been holding on to, all summer. And I'm going to give it to you just... like... that."

Finn whimpered, hearing Carl's words, feeling his breath against his neck, so warm, so perfect.

"God, I miss you," he cried, and clutched at the strong hands holding him.

Carl's voice was almost too low to be heard. "I miss you, too."

* * *

The garage was already shut and locked when Finn pulled up, so he had to park in the driveway. He was jittery all over, wrung out from crying, and still so unsatisfied. He kind of hated Carl, a little bit, for withholding everything, even though he understood why it had to be that way.

He shut the car door quietly, and then proceeded to drop his keys three times before he made it into to the house. The hallway light was on, and the rest of the house was silent, so he moved silently up the stairs.

"Sweetheart, is that you?" Kurt's voice from the top stair was tender, gentle, and tinged with a hint of worry.

"Yeah," he whispered. He reached the step below Kurt and reached out for him, pulling him close and kissing him passionately.

"Wait," Kurt said, pulling away. "Slow down. What happened with Blaine?"

"I -" Finn paused, and then shook his head. "I can't. Not yet. Jesus, Kurt." He pressed their bodies together, desperate. He was still hard, frustrated from the lack of all kinds of release. " _Please_." He was begging again. It felt like that was all he'd been doing all night: begging Mr. Anderson for understanding, Carl for release. And now Kurt, for… something. But Kurt seemed to understand.

Puck appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was still wearing a black t-shirt and the eyeliner he'd put on for the club. His face was cautious, but when he saw Finn's distress, it grew strangely calm.

"Hey," he said quietly. He climbed the stairs, one step at a time, and slid up behind Finn, wrapping arms around his waist and tucking his head into the space between Finn's shoulder blades.

Kurt sighed. "Okay... it's okay. Let's go in my room."

He led Finn, and when they were all inside, he closed the door behind them. Then he took Finn's face in his hand and kissed him gently.

"What do you need, man?" Finn felt Puck's hands at the hem of his t-shirt, and he shivered a little.

"Maybe that's the wrong question," Kurt said, stroking Finn's face. It felt so much like what Carl had done earlier that Finn winced and twisted away. Kurt looked at him in surprise. "Hmmm."

"He needs _something,_ that's for sure." Puck swept his hands up under Finn's shirt, over his head, and discarded it on the floor. Finn glanced over his shoulder at him, startled by Puck's hands gripping his biceps.

"What-" he began, and Kurt pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "We're going to take care of you."

"Now get on the bed," Puck growled into his ear.

For a moment, Finn was caught, almost unable to move. Kurt's smile was kind, but it was Puck's little shove that got him in motion. Numbly, he climbed up onto Kurt's bed, and the clenching in his gut wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Let me," he said, pulling Puck toward him and tugging at the button on Puck's jeans. But Puck pulled away and shook his head.

"Someone needs to be taught some patience, Kurt." There was something slightly disapproving in Puck's voice. Finn felt immediately uneasy.

"I'm sorry," he said, but neither one of them seemed to be paying attention.

"You're right," Kurt said, sitting on the bed next to Finn. "He really should be naked, though. You want to take care of that?" He looked at Puck and Puck nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. Puck's hands were warm and gentle at Finn's waist as he made quick work of Finn's shorts and boxers, then slid his hands down to frame Finn's hard cock. He smiled at Kurt. "He's so ready, baby. Look at him."

"Guys," Finn protested, but his word was cut off by the pressure of Kurt's hand over his mouth.

"I think he needs you to give him something, sweetheart," Kurt said matter-of-factly. "I think he needs to be fucked."

Finn's gasp was echoed by Puck's delighted laugh. He could felt himself slipping away, into the current of Kurt's words and the rumble of Puck's voice.

"That's totally what I was thinking," said Puck.

Finn felt hands coaxing him into a familiar position, on his hands and knees, and then down, his face low enough to brush against the pillowcase.

"He's just begging for it," Puck added, and two fingers breached him suddenly, dry and rough. Finn cried out at the same time that he pressed back into them, seeking more, needing it.

 _I_ ** _am_** _begging for it,_ he thought in amazement, and the thought felt like the sweetest freedom. He chased after it, opening his mouth and letting himself say - unbelievable things.

"Please," he said, and then again, a little louder. "Please, I need..."

Kurt's voice was low and intense against his skin. "We know just what you need." He kissed him, tenderly. "Be a good boy, let Puck take it from you, or we'll have to tie you up."

Finn closed his mouth on the words that threatened to escape, because they were just too embarrassing to contemplate, and he felt a third finger join the first two. He whimpered.

"So amazing," Puck said. "And so fucking hot, baby. I can't believe how _hot_ he looks like this."

"Do you think he's ready, sweetheart? Ready for you to fuck him until he screams?" Kurt stroked his hand up and down the length of Finn's spine, and Finn felt his body almost buckle at the sensation.

"Oh, yeah," Puck hummed. "He wants it hard, I can tell."

" _Fuck_ ," Finn moaned, because it was the only word he could summon.

"Shhhh," Kurt whispered again, right into his ear that time, and Finn shivered. Puck's fingers disappeared, and Finn pressed back into open air, seeking the friction and fullness he was missing. He'd never felt so much like crying at the same time he was desperate to come. There was a momentary pause, during which time he could only feel Kurt's breath on his cheek, his lips on his mouth and face. Then there was a tight, warm pressure against his hole. He moaned again, with more force, while Puck wedged his thighs under Finn's knees.

"Beg me for it," he demanded.

"F-fuck me," whispered Finn. And then, again, louder, he said it again, feeling the dizzying force of his own desire. "Fuck me. Please."

Even after they were in action, he kept saying it, letting the words be his mantra. Even after Puck was inside him, even after he'd set up a steady, brutal rhythm that threw him forward into the mattress. _Fuck me, please, fuck me._ He wasn't sure what they were doing, what need was being met, because he couldn't think clearly, he could just plead for them not to stop. _Fuck me, please, fuck me._

"He's not going to scream." Kurt sounded regretful. "I don't think you can fuck him hard enough. Maybe you should stop."

"No," he moaned. He mashed his face into the pillow and reached back with his own hands, pulling his ass cheeks apart. _Deeper, harder, more. Fuck me._

"Remember when we were both inside you at the same time, sweetheart?" Kurt asked. The question was directed at Puck, but Kurt ran his hand up and down Finn's spine as he spoke, stuttering a little on each impact of Puck's body against him. Sometimes he let his hand run underneath Finn, stroking his cock just enough to accelerate him into a new plane of wanting, but then stopping before he could get close to coming. Finn heard himself whimpering.

"I bet he would like that too," said Puck.

"Your hand," Finn heard himself saying. "Please. Your whole hand."

Kurt and Puck both slowed down, apparently contemplating this. The four fingers of Kurt's slender hand, compressed into a cone shape, was absolutely as far as Finn had gone toward Carl's goal of stretching him wide enough to accept an entire fist. But he knew he could take it now. He'd continued with Carl's plug regimen a few days each week, and he only had a few plugs left now to last him until his birthday. That wasn't until January, so he'd slowed down the pace. The largest plug was smaller than a fist, but definitely bigger than a small apple at its widest point. He'd come to relish the fullness of having a plug inside him most of the time all year, and had learned not to let himself appreciate it sexually. Now, the idea had come to represent exactly what he wanted and couldn't have. He'd never asked Kurt to go beyond four fingers — because he'd wanted Carl to do it first.

 _But Carl had told him he needed Kurt and Puck,_ he thought, in a haze of desperation. _He knew what I wanted, and he… he told me I should do this, instead._ It could have hurt, to know Carl was giving away that experience with him, but instead it just made him cry harder, to know Carl was still taking care of him in every way he could.

"You want Kurt's hand?" Puck asked, speaking directly to Finn for the first time that night. "Are you sure?"

Finn nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Please, just — I'm sure."

Puck's voice dropped into a seductive purr. "Before or after I come inside you?"

"Oh, god," cried Finn.

"I think that means _after,_ sweetheart." Kurt sounded so satisfied. "Go ahead and fill him up, and then I'll take over."

Puck ran a big, broad hand over Finn's back, right between his shoulder blades, and pressed him forward, hard, forcing him prone. Leaning forward on top of him, he was as commanding as Finn had ever seen him.

"You'd better not even think about coming."

"No, god, no, I won't, just — don't stop, please."

It felt like Puck took his time after that, but it was probably less than thirty seconds before he slammed hard into Finn, jerking his hips and groaning through his own release. Finn bit his own lip hard enough to make it bleed, although he didn't realize he'd done that until the next day.

"All right." Kurt touched Finn with his fingertips again, only this time he was wearing a rubber glove. It felt slick with lubricant. Finn never wanted that, but Carl had informed him that any time he had more than a dick inside him, he _would_ use lube to help guard against microtears inside his body.

Kurt worked one, then two fingers inside, then tucked his thumb under and began the slow, intense pressure of getting past the bulge of his thumb. Finn groaned and squirmed, leaning into it.

"Oh, Finn," Kurt breathed. "You… I had no idea this would look so good."

There was no pretense of anonymity now. Of course Kurt knew him. He knew exactly what Finn had been wanting for months, and now, apparently, he wasn't going to stop until he gave it to him. Even in the midst of pain and chaos, Finn felt the reverberation of thanks for Kurt in his bed, in his ass, in his life. He clutched for Puck's hand with his own.

"I love you," he said, his voice breaking. "I love you both. And — god, I'm so scared."

"It's going to be okay," Kurt said, but Finn was crying now, crying into the delicious amazing pressure of Kurt's fist inside him, because he knew it _wasn't_ going to be okay.

"Blaine was right," he sobbed, "it's so, so bad."

Kurt's fist, as it happened, was the opposite of bad, was inspiring him to new sensations every time he nudged a little further inside him. Eventually, Finn braced his hands on the bed and pushed back, forcing Kurt to take it the rest of the way, because he didn't want Kurt to think he was hurting him. They both exclaimed a little at the experience of having Kurt's hand swallowed up by his body.

Suddenly, Kurt was wrist-deep inside Finn. The intense pressure was gone, replaced by new sensations, ones that made him beg for more.

"Would you… please… fuck me like this?" he asked carefully.

Kurt made a noise, a hungry one. "I won't hurt you? Are you sure?"

"No," Finn admitted. "I'm not. But I really want to find out."

"This is new territory for me. I don't think I can do anything except listen to you and go… really… slowly." Kurt pushed a little, then pulled out a little, and did it again, trying different angles each time. When Kurt adjusted his fingers — Finn couldn't tell exactly how, not from the outside — he could suddenly feel each knuckle.

"Can I tell you what I want?"

At Kurt's emphatic nod, he looked over at Puck, who was eye level with him off the edge of the bed.

"Puck, your hand, around me, lubed up. And Kurt, real slow, drag your knuckles up — like that, then back in, then — ohh, god, ohh." He closed his eyes, feeling momentarily nauseated, but it passed in another wave of sensation. "Like that. Thank you."

"Okay if I kiss you?" Puck's question was thick with his own emotions. Finn could hear worry and love and excitement, and so much desire.

Finn nodded hard, a wordless plea. When he felt Puck's lips on him and Puck's hand around him and Kurt's knuckles inside him, all at once, and he started crying again because he was going to come in five seconds.

"Wait," he gasped, and all motion ceased. He let out a few sobs, held his breath, and then said, "Okay, go again."

This time he couldn't resist the slide off the cliff, and he fell into pulsing, shooting orgasm within seconds of Kurt's hand moving. The most amazing thing was, he didn't stop coming for about thirty more seconds. Every time he thought he was done, there'd be another wave of sensation, and he'd feel his cock jerk in Puck's hand, and he would squeeze out another dribble of fluid — and the sensation would travel into where Kurt's hand was inside him, and begin all over again. Every time Kurt would stop, Finn would beg, _"More,_ no, keep going," and Kurt would oblige.

Finn continued the cycle a few more times, but finally it did stop. They helped Finn lie down on the soaking wet sheets while Kurt stripped off his glove.

"Wow," Kurt said eventually.

Finn nodded, breathing as hard as though he'd run a marathon. It wasn't the haze he usually felt at the end of an intense scene. He was oversensitized, feeling every little ache, magnified inside, but he was entirely _present_ to all of it.

Kurt lay down beside him, one leg thrown over Finn's hip, hugging him with his entire body. Finn could feel Kurt's cock, hot and twitching against his hip.

"You're not done," Finn said.

Kurt shook his head. "I was too worried about you. But that… was incredible, Finn. I feel like I almost don't need to come after that."

"Almost," Puck echoed. He tucked a hand between Kurt and Finn, wrapping it around Kurt and starting the rhythm that Kurt liked.

"Talk to me about how it felt," Kurt said, already breathless and thrusting into his hand.

"Your knuckles," said Finn. "I could feel them inside, rubbing, every time you went in, and then when you — when you shifted a little, I could tell I just wanted it really hard and really fast, right in that spot. You could have made me come, like Noah does, just with your hand inside there. But — " He paused his words while Kurt ground up against his leg, and slipped a hand down between his cheeks to press against him, not quite inside but very close. "But I really liked the hand on my cock too. It made it a lot quicker."

"Finn," Kurt cried, reaching for his neck to pull his mouth closer. Finn could feel every last shudder in Kurt's body through the pressure of his lips, the moans he captured in his own mouth as he came. Finally, Kurt relaxed, limp, in his arms. Finn gathered him up and held him tightly, feeling the tears beginning again.

"Puck," he said.

"Here." Puck was climbing into the empty space in Kurt's bed behind Finn. Finn turned and kissed him hard, bringing forth more moans.

"You guys took such fucking good care of me," he said. He could hear the way his own voice came out jagged, like broken glass. "I gotta tell you what happened tonight, but… I wanted you to know how much that meant to me. You were so totally in charge. And Carl… Carl knew you would know what to do." He paused. "How did he know that?"

Kurt lifted his head off Finn's chest, looking across him at Puck. "We, uh. We may have had this conversation with him already. He predicted someday you might need that from somebody other than him, and that it should be us."

Finn screwed up his face and held in the tears, trying to keep breathing evenly. "Yeah. He's always taken good care of me, too."

"Finn," said Puck, and his voice was sober. "What happened with Blaine?"

It took the better part of twenty minutes to get the whole story out, but most of Finn's debilitating emotions were under control now. Kurt and Puck listened in shock, holding tight to Finn's hands.

"No contact?" Puck said. His face was pale gray, and he looked like he might want to leap out of bed that moment and go kidnap Blaine from his house. "You and me, nothing?"

"No. His dad made that clear. He's got ears and eyes everywhere at Dalton." He touched Kurt on the shoulder. "You're going to have to be the one to call him, Kurt. His dad doesn't know about you, or if he does, he thinks you're just Blaine's friend."

"Right now," Kurt said, reaching for his phone, but Finn shook his head.

"His dad took away his phone, but I bet we could find a way to smuggle him one of those pay-as-you-go phones? And we have to talk to people on his floor, ask them to keep an eye on him. I'll try Jeff. Maybe some of the other Warblers can help, I think I remember their names."

"Fuck. He must be totally freaking out." Puck looked hard at Finn. "His dad saw the flogger?"

"Yeah, that was what did it," he sighed. Now that the adrenaline was running its course, he could feel a headache beginning. "I need some water and something to eat."

Puck hopped up obligingly, reaching into Kurt's drawer for a clean t-shirt. "On it."

"Thanks. Kurt, can you come in the shower with me?"

Kurt helped him off the bed, watching him as he carefully tried standing up. "You're trying to manage your own aftercare," he pointed out.

Finn chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I am. You want to help take care of me?"

"I'll do my best." He walked beside Finn across to the bathroom that joined their two rooms, then when he was seated on the toilet, went back and stripped the soaked sheets off his bed. "I could use a new set of sheets. I vote we all sleep in your room tonight."

Finn was grateful for a few moments of solitude, because cleanup after an activity like the one they'd just done was maybe a little more messy than he really wanted to share with Kurt. By the time Kurt returned to the bathroom, he was standing and gingerly walking around. He gave Kurt a rueful grimace.

"You okay?" Kurt asked. "I mean… inside."

"Sore," said Finn. "But wow, that was so worth it. Give me a week to recover and we are totally doing that again."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Finn, resting his head on Finn's chest, and sighed. "Yes, sir."

Finn hugged him back. "You're going to have to be the one to take care of Blaine, you know."

"I will," Kurt said immediately. "Whatever he needs, I'll make sure he gets it."

"I know you will. You love him as much any of us. It's just…" Finn stood back to look seriously into Kurt's face. "I think he can't say _no_ to his father. Even if he wants to, he's not capable of it. I watched them together and it was a little scary. More than a little."

Kurt nodded. His face was a little scared, too. "I'll keep that in mind."

They showered as quickly as they could, appreciating the enormous shower stall, and relocated to Finn's room to eat the cheese and crackers and paté and juice that Puck brought up from the kitchen. Puck took a turn in the shower before joining them, seating himself on the floor next to Finn's knee. Whatever Toppish tendencies he'd exhibited earlier, they seemed to be dormant again.

Finn rested a hand on Puck's head, and he sighed.

"I'm really sorry I ruined your date night," said Finn.

"Hey, no!" Puck shook his head, just as Kurt said, "Don't be ridiculous, Finn."

Finn smiled sadly. "Maybe we can try another date night again, someday?"

There was a silence while they considered just how long _someday_ might be from now.

"I just can't deal with thinking about him all alone at his dad's," said Puck. "He hates being alone."

"Jeff said he'd watch out for him when he gets back to school."

Puck looked down at his hands. "Do you think, uh, it would be okay if I prayed for Blaine?"

Kurt gave Finn a swift, distressed glance, but Finn said, "Yeah, absolutely. You can do that."

Kurt got to his feet and wrapped his robe around himself. "I'm going to turn out the lights and lock up downstairs."

Puck watched him go unhappily. "I knew he wasn't going to like that idea."

"Yeah, it's okay, though. Kurt doesn't have to agree with everything you do." Finn watched him curiously as he climbed onto the bed and sat there, legs crossed, with his elbows on his knees. "You want me to… go somewhere else?"

"Maybe," Puck said apologetically. "It's not like I'm performing. It's just between me and God."

"Sure, yeah." Finn went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and brushed his teeth for a particularly long time. He flossed, even though he never did that, thinking about Carl's visit. That led to thinking about Carl, and about what Carl had said to him earlier that night.

He held the words close to his heart: _I'm not going to let this be our next time. You deserve... everything._

 _Blaine does, too,_ he thought. _I'm not going to let tonight be our last time, either. I'm going to handle this._


End file.
